Happy Monday
by demuredemeanor
Summary: A fluffy little series started in anticipation of the mid-season return! Day-to-day est. relationship. KB-RC-AC. Pure fluff, R&R.
1. Monday

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

**Happy Monday**

Katherine Beckett slips from the warmth of her bed, silencing her seemingly incessant alarm but in reality the soft drone of the radio, barely audible in the waking hours, but right now it sounds like a 747 taking off. Waking up for work is always difficult but after the a few days off it is almost impossible to remove herself from the warmth of her bed, especially on these icy-cold New York City winter mornings. But if she doesn't get moving then she never will, she may as well be at the precinct when she receives one of those always expected calls, it is worse when she is woken by those calls. This way at least she can shower in her own time, grab herself a coffee and maybe some toast.

She's just applying some make-up when her phone vibrates across the bathroom countertop. _Damn_, maybe just coffee this morning.

"Beckett," she answers, always professional. She abbreviates the address in the corner of the still-foggy mirror and hangs up. She quickly types it in a draft message in her phone, wiping the mirror of the evidence. She debates ringing Castle, he does enjoy to sleep in. But from what dispatch told her this one could be good, just his style. She sighs softly, dials his number.

While he does pick up the phone surprisingly quickly, he only grunts in answer, half-past four is a little earlier than he typically rises, but it is not the first (or the earliest) she has ever woken him with a call.

"We've got a body," she chirps, putting a sing-song tone in her voice she knows will infuriate him at this ungodly hour.

"Mmm," he hums in response, still half-asleep, debating internally whether sleep or the case is more enticing.

"It sounds promising," she offers.

"Okay, give me half an hour," he says.

"You have fifteen minutes," she warns, hanging up on him. She's almost ready, she's not going to delay her progress by letting him sleep. But if he had seriously wanted to sleep he would have refused. Having moved through her apartment toward the coffee machine, she puts the toast on – one extra minute won't hurt. Plus she can take it with her, it sounds like they won't get a chance to break for lunch.

The toast pops while she gathers the paperwork she left on her desk the night before, readying it for its return to the precinct, to be locked back in storage. She puts the box on the table, grabs her toast (quickly lathering it in Peanut Butter) and tops up her coffee before she returns to the table. Checking her email as she drinks, completely absorbed until the silence of her apartment is broken sudden. "Some of that for me," he says against her hair, pressing his lips to her neck for a brief second.

She chuckles. "Only if you're dressed," she challenges, not turning around to look at him, simply leaning back into his brief embrace.

When he drops into the chair beside her, leaning against the table with exaggerated exhaustion, she rolls her eyes, tossing him the last half of her slice when she finds him dressed in a dress shirt and dark jeans. She drinks deeply from her coffee, studying him while he chews the toast, leaving crumbs over the table due to his lack of plate.

"When I get back I'm leaving," she says as she stands, leaning forward kissing him in proper greeting then swipes her thumb at the corner of his mouth, removing the tiniest hint of Peanut Butter.

He nods in acknowledgement, understanding their need to leave, but putting a hand on her waist, drinking in the sight of her, not quite ready to adopt their professional personas just yet. "How come you didn't come in and wake me up, it would have been more pleasant than the phone vibrating in my ear," he says softly.

She huffs. "You have proven too many times in the past that, wake-up calls where I go back to bed to wake you always lead to us _staying_ in bed for much longer than fifteen extra minutes," she shoots at him, trying to look disapproving and only half pulling it off. How can she when every time she goes in to whisper for him to wake or even to shove him from the bed onto the hard floor, it has resulted in him being very attentive to her, persuading her to not only let him stay in bed, but for her to stay with him, or that one time when he insisted a joint shower would be quicker.

"I know, but-"

She kisses him again, cutting him off. "I'll be ready in two minutes," she says, this time successfully pulling away.

When she comes back, now wearing not only her holster and badge, but the watch and necklace he knows she is ready. He has rinsed the dishes, left them in her sink. "You finished my coffee!" she exclaims, throwing him a glance that makes him suspect if he isn't careful dispatch may have to send a homicide team to her apartment.

He kisses her cheek, now ushering her towards the door. "I'll buy you the largest coffee I can get at the first shop we see," he promises.

She pretends to consider, to still be mad. She knows what comes next, this has become a practiced routine, choreographed and executed to the letter each time.

"I'll buy you a bear claw as well," he adds as he tugs on his shoes, leaning against the hallway as she locks her apartment, setting the alarm he insisted on her installing.

She finishes first, his sock twisted around his foot. Apparently he didn't consider it important to turn it right-way-out before attempting to pull it over his foot. She rolls her eyes and leans against the door-jam, he always finds some way to stall them in the morning, even if it is only a minute.

When he finally pulls his shoes on, she raises a brow, the comment about his inability to perform a task most six year olds undertake with ease is unnecessary.

He kisses her again, deeper than before. Darting his tongue out he tastes the coffee and Peanut Butter which still linger in her mouth. She sighs into his kiss, trailing her fingertips down from where they had automatically tangled in his hair at the initial contact to the tip of his chin. Only when both hands reach his chin does she pull away and rest her nose against his.

"Good morning," he says softly after he pulls back to smile at her. This is not unusual either. They can have whole conversations, sometimes they even go an hour or more before they mutter the greeting to one another.

"It's getting better," she says softly, teasing him but agreeing, her arms now draped over his shoulders, wrists crossed behind his head.

He takes her hand as she pulls back from him, tugging her close so he can wrap his arm around her waist – needing a few more moments of contact before the hours of strict rules they have imposed upon themselves. Although mutually agreed upon, he does find them harder. "Happy Monday," he jokes as he lets go of her, ready to climb into the car.

"You're unusually chipper this morning, normally it takes an hour or more before you start," she says, moving around the car, climbing behind the wheel.

He responds once she has joined him in the car. "Hey," he defends, "I'm not _that_ bad. Plus it's Monday and there is a case already waiting for us, suggesting," his tone switches to conspiring, "this week will be a good one."

**A/N: This popped into my head and wouldn't disappear. Set sometime in the future, but (hopefully) not too far away (if you were lost I apologise).**


	2. Tuesday

**Promised Tuesday**

Castle jerks awake. The image that had just been tormenting his brain flashes across his eyes for a split second and then disappears. Now he is awake, the previous day's events sending a shudder through his body.

He slides his hands across the cool sheets, searching for her warmth. But she isn't there. She hasn't come to bed like she said. 'What time is it?' his brain screams, demanding more sleep but overwhelmed with concern. It's not too late, midnight, but she should be here by now, curled into his bed, wrapped with him beneath the blankets like they agreed upon hours earlier when he left, leaving her to the paperwork, giving her time to digest what she'd had to do.

She'd had to shoot a man after he'd shot her, through Kevlar of course, but he had seen the way her body convulsed and her eyes sought his afterward. But the scene had been a hum of activity and he hadn't had an opportunity to offer her comfort. So he'd left her to her thoughts, to her process and had headed home.

He slides out of bed. His phone in hand, already dialling. If she's still at the station he'll be annoyed, but not with her. How could he be? She's just coping the only way she knows how, by isolating herself. But now she doesn't have to, he has to keep reminding her. Where on Earth did he leave his shoes?

"Hey," she says softly when she answers.

"Where are you?" his voice is gentle, non-accusing. If she is still at the station, or worse at her own place, he doesn't want to make this worse by starting an argument. Still searching for those elusive shoes.

"Sorry, I meant to…" she trails up. "I just got caught up in the paperwork," she says softly.

"I know," he says. He understands how she buries herself in the paper for a few hours and then when she pops out again the world is a little clearer. "When are you coming to bed?" he whispers, knowing she can hear him, but knows that even if she can't she'll know what he's asking.

"Soon," she hums. "I just need another minute, Alexis has-"

He freezes, rooted to his spot. He hangs up the phone, heading out of his bedroom, seeking both of them out. He loves the way his daughter and his partner interact. But they aren't in the living room, kitchen or dining room. So he heads upstairs.

Kate laughs when he enters the room, absorbed in something his daughter has said before he was within earshot. "Hey," he says to his daughter as she smiles in greeting, heading toward the bed.

When Kate turns to look at the source of the heavy dip in the mattress he greets her as well, kissing her softly, quickly then mutters a "Hey" for her benefit. He is so glad she is _here_, not just in his home, but in his daughter's room.

"What have you two been doing?" he asks softly, noticing how they both look as though they've spent a fair amount of time laughing, the glow both of them are emitting has him envious he missed it, but causes him to smile.

"I've just been revealing stories," she pauses, "again." She grins wickedly at him and Kate starts laughing, obviously remembering something Alexis has said. He really should find out _which_ stories his daughter has been sharing, but right now that doesn't matter.

He feigns horror. "You can't tell her anything else, she has too much ammunition already!" he exclaims, gesturing at Kate while meeting his daughter's eyes over her head.

"Even if she didn't say a word I have enough ammunition of my own," Kate teases, turning to smile at him.

"Okay," he wraps an arm around Kate's waist, standing and pulling her with him, "time for bed. I do not need you two conspiring against me as a team, it is hard enough to deal with you separately. The thought of a tag-team," he shudders, not bothering to continue, he has made his point.

"Good night," Kate is saying to his daughter, sitting on the girl's bed to hug her. He has to swallow, steel himself against showing emotion. He isn't surprised by the fast-friends they have become, the bond they have formed, but that doesn't mean that when he sees them together he doesn't become overwhelmed by them both. The way his daughter has welcomed his partner into their home and how his partner has gained his daughter's trust, taken the time to build a relationship with the girl.

They are suddenly both looking at him expectantly. _Whoops_, they must have said something. He deduces from Kate's position, removed from his daughter and himself, giving them a chance to say goodnight. "I'll see you in a sec," she mutters as she walks past, grazing his hand with her own.

He speaks to his daughter a minute, checking she's alright and then kisses her forehead. "Goodnight pumpkin," he mutters his usual term of endearment. She is not even close to being a small child anymore, but he wants to tuck the covers around her body and sit with her until she falls asleep. He restrains himself; she will think there is something wrong. So he turns off her light for her and lingers in the doorway a moment. When he clicks it shut behind him it immediately shifts his focus, he has to find Kate again.

"Hey," she mutters from his bed. She is curled up his in doona, her back to him and she doesn't even look back as he enters the room.

He doesn't respond, just slides in behind her. Peppering her bare neck with kisses, grateful she has pulled her hair up tonight. He feels her ease back into him and breath out heavily in response.

"How long have you been here?" he asks between the feather light kisses.

"Maybe an hour?" she guesses before continuing. "Alexis was working at the table, I told her she should head to bed, that it was late," he smiles against her skin, and lifts tracing a path up toward her ear. "Then we just ended up talking," she says softly.

"About me," he whispers, his lips kissing the skin just behind her ear.

"Of course," she teases. Her body shaking as she gives a gentle laugh, he pulls her closer, tighter to his body to stop her movements.

He uses the arm he slipped beneath her to urge her to roll onto her back, as he continues to kiss a path along her jaw. When she obliges, he takes a second to study her face. She looks content, more content than he expected her to be tonight. Maybe it was being greeted by his daughter instead of himself, he knows his daughter is unaware of their day but she would have perceived something was wrong, especially after he had said he had to write and gone to bed without his laptop. He peppers kisses across her cheek until he reaches the corner of her mouth. She has shut her eyes, he notes when he raises to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, to her eyebrow before the trails back down to her mouth. She doesn't respond to his featherlight kisses as he kisses along her top lip and then her bottom. It is only when he draws back, admiring her while she is unaware then presses his lips against her own properly that she responds.

"You okay," he mutters, drawing back before she deepens the kiss, her tongue had been tracing his bottom lip when he had pulled back.

"I am now." She smiles at him and he notices for the first time that she really is okay, it wasn't an act for Alexis' benefit.

"I'm glad," he kisses her again, this time darting his tongue out immediately. She obliges and squirms slightly against him, trying to get closer, but his arms have limited her, holding her weight from his previous assault.

When he pulls back again, smirking at her arousal. She says something he isn't expecting. "You have your daughter to thank for that," she confesses softly. "When I arrived… I was looking for you, expected you to be waiting up." He feels bad, he should have waited up, he had tried, but had fallen asleep waiting. "Castle it's fine. I'm glad it was her who greeted me and not you," she says softly.

"I needed you to hold me," she confesses. He crushes her against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"Don't apologise," she chastises. "I needed the normality for a while," her voice is grim, like she is hoping she doesn't offend him.

"I understand." He kisses her temple.

"You okay?" she asks from against his chest.

He squeezes her tighter. "I am now," he echoes her words, but they are the truth. Now he knows she is okay he can stop worrying. He does worry every time they head out to apprehend a suspect, worry that one of them or the team will be injured or worse. But he has to quash that, the longer any of them dwell on the fact, the more likely it is it will eventuate.

Then she is kissing his neck, darting her tongue out to taste his skin. He groans and pulls her hips against his own. He feels her intake of breath against his damp skin, it makes him shiver and repeat the action.

He leans over her, pressing his body to hers, trapping her against the mattress. Noticing she changed into the t-shirt she claimed as her own months ago. She has her own clothes here, but she still insists on sleeping in his. He had caught her burying her nose in it the second time she'd worn it – he had worn it in between. It had smelt like her, and apparently she enjoyed the fact it now smelt like him, from then on he had let her keep it, tossing it at her on the mornings they awoke naked to cover herself while they ate breakfast.

He kisses her deeply, starting something he knows she will finish by running his hands up under the shirt along her sides, grazing her breasts then sliding his hands back down, settling them at her hips.

She pulls away, narrowing her eyes at him in threat. He knows what she wants, but she has to wait. He isn't finished.

When she collapses against his chest, her own chest heaving, her body still enduring the aftershocks of what they have just achieved, his shirt clinging to her sweaty body, he runs his hands along her back, making her look up at him, slide her body higher up his chest so she can kiss him softly. By the time he savours the moment, exhales then opens his eyes she's gone, not in bed. When he throws his head in the other direction, his eyes seeking out the en suite, he finds her standing at the edge of the bed holding his pyjama pants in front of him. "Put these back on," she requests, tossing them at him, then disappears from his sight again, behind the doona which has been piled there in their haste.

As quickly as she disappeared from his bed, she climbs back into it. "Put your damn pants on Castle," she rolls her eyes and curls onto her side, distancing herself from him. He reaches out, sliding a hand over her knee and up her thigh – the only part of her he can reach, but he propels himself forwards with his other elbow, and slides his hand along the outside of her thigh, about to use a hand on her arse to force her closer. Except he meets material, not her bare skin like he had expected.

He meets her gaze with a questioning look.

She raises a brow, in challenge, before her face softens and she explains. "We need to sleep. I do not need you waking me up numerous times through the night to-"

"I didn't hear you complaining," he teases, tugging her closer anyways, kissing her forehead as she curls into side, head resting on his shoulder.

"No you didn't," she kisses his clavicle. "But tomorrow I have to work and after the weekend," she lets the memory hang in the air before she continues, "we need some sleep." As if to illustrate her point she pushes against his chest, urging him to roll onto his back.

He obliges, keeping his arm curled around her, keeping her tight against his chest.

"Today will be better," he kisses the top of her head, promising her.

"You don't know that," she responds immediately.

"I do," he says, silently begging her to ask.

She doesn't.

"It's already better." He runs his hand along her hip, sliding his thumb just underneath the elastic, making his implication clear.

She puts a hand on top of his, still it and dragging them back to his shoulder. She kisses a knuckle. "Goodnight Castle," she says pointedly, her voice thickening with sleep as she relaxes against him.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous," he baits.

She bites. "Castle, what have I told you about-"

"I know, I know," he kisses her hair as he apologises, not really sorry. "It is true through," he whispers.

**A/N: I was persuaded to continue by the response I recieved. Thanks to all who reviewed, altered and favourited. I know this was a little less fluff, but the idea took off on me a little more than I thought. Hope you enjoyed, R&R : )**


	3. Wednesday

**Hump Day**

"Castle if you don't stop tapping I am going to shoot you," she snaps, slapping her own hand over his own to still his movements.

"Sorry," he mutters, averting his gaze from hers, stopping his movements immediately.

She trails her fingers across his hand as she withdraws, silently apologising for snapping. He meets her gaze as she does so, giving her a soft smile, silently acknowledging it was necessary.

"You should go home," she says softly, keeping her voice low to avoid engaging the pair of detectives who never fail to cease an opportunity, prodding into her personal life like it is a sport.

"But-" he begins to protests. He's glad she cuts him off; he doesn't have a specific need to be there. He just wants to be, he always wants to be there.

"We haven't got a case, Castle. Your phone just died," she gestures to the abandoned phone. "Plus I know you're behind schedule."

He opens his mouth, closing it. He sighs then pouts. He knows she's right, she always is. He should go home and work, earn his keep. She needs to catch up on her paperwork, he knows that. She doesn't need him looking over her shoulder, he understands.

"Okay," he says softly, before standing and tugging on his coat, flicking his eyes silently for her to follow him out. She rolls her eyes in response, but stands and heads off to that alcove by the elevators.

She is leaning against the wall when he pops through the doorway, her arms are folded across her chest and he drinks in the sight of her. Quickly he crosses to her, putting his hands on her waist, leaning in close, moving to kiss her goodbye.

"I'll be home early," she promises softly, so only he can hear.

He kisses her softly. "Don't say that, a body will drop and I'll just have to come back in," he whines, teasing her.

"Not today," she says, tilting her head, somehow certain, defiant.

His brows draw together in confusion. "You can't possibly know that," he scoffs. He is normally the one who makes wild assumptions, guesses and she requires hard facts, evidence. Not this time apparently.

She shrugs the shoulder that isn't supporting her body weight. "Its hump day," she says offhandedly, as if this aloof statement explains everything.

He chuckles. "What?" he asks, astonished and not comprehending what she means in the slightest. "I told you, it doesn't matter which day of the week-"

She shots him a glare that renders him speechless, he knows she hadn't meant sex. Kate Beckett would never describe their interactions in such a way. He also knows she wouldn't use the term for his benefit, to speak to him at his level, they both know the word doesn't come close to describing that connection. It doesn't mean he wouldn't take the opportunity to tease her with it. But she has a point using the term, he knows that. He's proven correct when she rolls her eyes, it tells him that she apparently she considers it obvious. "It's Wednesday. The middle of the week Castle," she explains, as though he is five years old.

"I know that," he laughs, while not a phrase common in his repertoire he has heard it before. He doesn't understand what it means for her. "But that doesn't explain why a body won't drop," he says before he kisses her cheek again, feeling daring despite their rules and current public location, seising the opportunity for closeness while she is too frustrated by their words to focus on their actions.

"I rarely get new cases on a Wednesday, though," she sighs, "we're normally still working on one from earlier in the week." She shrugs. If he didn't know better he would assume she was embarrassed, but Kate Beckett doesn't get embarrassed. In all the times he's known her he has only ever seen the emotion on a handful of occassions. In circumstances when most people would be embarrassed she only hesitates for a second, her mind considering her words or actions, then forging ahead regardless. But then she pulls a clump of hair behind her ear, a classic tell, so maybe she is a little. Why exactly he isn't sure. Maybe she feels stupid revealing her thought process to him, maybe she feels stupid for taking note of when she receives those calls from dispatch, maybe she doesn't like the awkward way she brought it up and had to explain it. Whatever it is he isn't sure, but it suits her.

"I've noticed," he smirks, tilting his head as she studies him. Her gaze intense, like she is looking for something, waiting for his teasing comment. "It is more often than not a rude awakening on a Monday morning, then another on Friday ruining our weekend." He kisses her cheek again, touching his lips gently to her own.

"Not always ruining it," she murmurs against his mouth. He wants to groan, but settles for a contented sigh. She just reminded him of things which are inappropriate to even think about in the presence of anybody else. His mother taking Alexis out both evenings, an unplanned opportunity for him to spend a weekend with his partner wining and dining her, never leaving her bed, much less her apartment.

"I'll see you later," she says softly, leaning in to kiss him quickly again before pushing him away with a gentle hand to the chest.

"Later," he echoes and steps back, moving away from her, heading home like she requested. He notices her soft, toothless smile as he presses the call button for the elevator and can't help but let the wide smile spread across his face. Then she's moving off the wall and heading back into the bullpen and he's climbing on the elevator.

"In here," he calls through the loft at the sound of the front door unlocking and opening, too deep in his storyline to move from his position in his office. His daughter will know where he is, ask him about his day and he'll ask about hers. Then he'll have to find out when Kate will arrive so they can plan dinner around her schedule, happy to accommodate her unpredictable hours. His back is to the door, but he hears her barefoot approach as her feet pad across the wooden floor toward him. "Hey sweetie," he greets, waving over his shoulder. "How was your day?" He receives no response, just more footsteps. He finishes his sentence and spins in his chair to face her as the desk creaks with an added weight.

"I don't know if I should be offended or humbled," Kate laughs at him, throwing him a look he can't quite place when he turns and finds her perched on his desk.

"Oh," he says, unsure if he should be shocked or embarrassed. "You are home early," he acknowledges, stupidly. He sets the laptop on the desk behind her and tugs her down towards him, wanting a proper greeting.

"I said I would be," she says softly, content. "Plus Gates kind of kicked us out… Ryan and Esposito got a little… distracted. Then she told me there was no point my being there with no team and no new case." She shrugs, not seeming to mind the early pass.

"I thought you were Alexis," he says stupidly before pressing his lips against hers. Noting just how early the Detective is actually here. His daughter generally arrives home about four and there has been no sign of her yet this afternoon.

She ignores how flabbergasted he is with her presence, returning his greeting. While it is not impossible for her to get off work early, it is however a rare occurrence. "Get some work done?" she asks, gesturing to the closed laptop behind her, shifting back onto the desk properly.

"Yeah," he nods, "a fair bit. Wrote up a full chapter and outlined the next two," he volunteers. He doesn't tell her the specifics, she only ever asks to read it once it is in printed and bound. The gleam in his eye tells her he's just written something he knows she will enjoy when she finally does read it.

She nods approvingly. "Finished for now?" she asks. She didn't come home from work early to sit on his desk and watch him work. His deadline is far enough off that it isn't necessary.

He hums in response, standing. He places his hands on either side of her hips as he leers over her, his face hovering in front of her own, the glint still in his eye and a smirk on his face as he nudges his thigh against her knees, silently urging her to allow him proximity. She obliges, putting her ankles against the back of his knees, curling her legs around his thighs, but keeping her forearms aligned with his, not drawing his body against her own like he wants. At least for now.

"What did you have in mind?" he teases, his mouth just a breath from hers.

She smirks at him, closing the distance between them softly kissing each corner of his mouth. "I was thinking I'd take a bath," she says softly, a hint of teasing in her voice. Not the kind she has used since the beginning of their partnership when they make suggestive jokes, but the kind she reserves for just them, no prying ears, when she is seducing him, making him eat out of the palm of her hand.

He shivers, moving his body toward her, kissing her cheek and humming in response, urging her to continue. "A bath sounds good," he breaths against her skin.

"It really does. I'll probably finish my book, then relax while you cook dinner," she says, using that same tone.

He pouts, putting his cheek against her own. "But I-"

"Castle, Alexis will be home in twenty minutes. Do you really want her to-"

"No," he sighs against her cheek. He kisses the soft skin as he withdraws, wanting to look her in the eye when he asks his question. "Why do you want me to start dinner now? Are we eating at five?" He keeps a hint of teasing in his tone, but his question is serious. Normally they don't even consider food until at least five.

"I thought you could make pizza again." He knows exactly what she is referring to. A few weeks back Alexis had declared they should have pizza, but proper homemade pizza. He had witnessed the doubt on the detective's face when he'd agreed that the next day they would try it. He was no culinary connoisseur, but he had assumed he could handle it. Her doubt had concerned him a little, but he hadn't said anything. He would prove it to her, promising her she'd love it later, kissing the side of her head. She had still been silently doubtful, telling him they should try it, but not do anything too fancy. All said in hushed whispers, concealing it from his daughter. When she had come over and found them arranging toppings with artistic intent across the bases they had laid out – after their shopping expedition that afternoon, she had gingerly joined the fun. He had meant to ask her later what the reason was for her hesitation, but he had forgotten as soon as she had let her guard down and joined in. He had seen her hesitant smiles, heard her laughing with his daughter. But apparently his girlfriend had enjoyed herself more than she had let on.

He shifts her on the desk, sliding her whole body forward as he catches her off-guard sliding his arms around her waist, drawing her weight against his chest. He hums against her hair both in approval of her proposal and the gasp she let out at his movement. "Sounds good," he says when he loosens his grasp on her, kissing her again, a little deeper than before.

"Think Alexis will mind?" she asks softly after he kisses her.

"I think she'll love it," he confesses softly, telling her the truth. His daughter had enquired to him about Kate's hesitation, he'd said he didn't understand either but they just have fun, show her she had no reason to worry about whatever it was. Alexis will be pleased that they succeeded to such an extent that an encore has been requested.

His answer earns a nod from the detective, happy her suggestion has approval. "Okay," he says softly, "if I'm going to make this dough it needs to have enough time to rise, which means, you have to let me go," he teases, expecting her to shove against his chest causing him to drop his arms from around her then remark that he is the one holding her close.

But she doesn't she shakes her head against his chest. "In a minute," she says softly, content to stay for another moment before separating from him.

He tightens his grip on her, not failing to take advantage of one of the rare opportunities she is content to lie against him, saying nothing and without a reason to curl against his body. It's not that she isn't a cuddler, she is, but it is always when they're about to sleep, or watching a movie, and that almost always leads to other things. When she is upset of course she seeks comfort in his arms, but rarely does she let him hold her against his chest for an extra moment, content to lie against his chest and listen to his heart beat. He wonders silently to himself if this hump day early leave pass will become a more regular occurrence, he hopes so.

**Hope you enjoyed. R&R : )**


	4. Thursday

**Pointless Thursday**

"I can only come up for five minutes Castle," she's warning him. She wants to go home and shower, grab some extra clean clothes.

He huffs feigning frustration, then tugs on her hand, attempting to pull her from the car over the console and through the passenger door. She just throws him a look of annoyance at his impatience and insistence. He seems too smug, like he will convince her to stay despite her protests. She knows he can't, not this evening. She needs some time to herself, she's been intruding on his time with his daughter for almost three consecutive days. Normally she limits the time she steals him from the girl. Alexis would never vocalise that she'd like some alone time with her dad, but Kate won't ever let it get that point. She knows Castle would be content to have them both all the time, but tonight he needs to catch up with his daughter.

She understands, she has a few things to do anyways. She'll wash some of her clothes, especially the ones which she keeps here – some of them she hasn't seen in her own closet for weeks. Plus it is about time she stopped wearing the same few items after she stays here. At least now she's found a legitimate reason to duck upstairs with him, spend a few moments with him in his home, find Alexis and tell the girl to have a movie night with her dad.

Except upstairs five minutes later, when she breaks free from Castle's grasp, granting him one last lingering kiss before she steps back, completely separating herself from him. "I'll be back, I have something I want to tell Alexis," she says softly, hesitates then heads slowly upstairs.

When she had pulled back it had been like a cold wind had come between them, a vast distance filled by a chill far cooler than he heat which had been radiating from her body. But then she'd given him that soft smile, brushing a few wispy hairs from her forehead and he had melted, content to let her do whatever she pleased, especially if that involved saying hello to his daughter before she slipped out the door, finding her excuse to leave.

.

"Hey," Kate says softly, not wanting to startle the girl, tapping her knuckles once on the half open door.

Alexis smiles when she tears her eyes from the notebook in front of her. "Hi," she says the smile which graces her face is apparent in her tone.

"Can I sit?" Kate has crossed to the bed and gestures at the array of books which are spread out before the girl.

"Oh, of course," she says quickly, shifting herself over, stacking the books, hastily making room.

Before Kate sits, she considers sitting at the girl's feet, but that isn't their relationship. She isn't Alexis' parent, her mother always used to sit at the foot of her bed when she had something to say, when she was in trouble as a small child, being lectured as a teenager or just when she came in to say goodnight. That memory causes her to sit beside her, put her feet on the bed and raise her knees, mimicking Alexis' position – intentionally attempting to keep them on an even playing field.

"What's up?" Alexis is asking her, eyes a little concerned it might be something serious.

"Nothing I just…" She stops speaking; it seems stupid now she's here. "I thought I'd come up and say hi before I left, tell you to have fun with your dad tonight." She gives the girl what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

"You have better plans?" Alexis raises an eyebrow, teasing like her father.

Kate laughs at the girl, leaning her head over to examine the calculus book sitting open on her lap. "No actually, and it seems yours aren't any better."

The girl screws up her face. "Yeah not really." Sneaking a glance back at her book before raising her eyes slowly, meeting Kate's gaze again. "Why aren't you staying? Dad been too annoying today?" she guesses.

"Surprisingly not," Kate keeps it light, hopes her face portrays the modest shock she feels at the realisation. "No, I actually thought you guys could do with some time alone. You know catch up without me hanging around," she says softly, slowly.

"Kate…" Alexis' tone is a little shocked. "You don't need to do that."

"I do." She nods slowly, trying to convince them both. "You need some time with your dad," she says softly.

"Actually I have a better idea," Alexis says slowly after a moment, as if the words she is about to say are meaningful.

.

Just as Castle has begun to think that Alexis has managed to convince her to stay, that or they have snuck out past him on some top-secret evening adventure he has been kept in the dark about, they appear on the stairs, speaking in soft tones, words he doesn't catch as they descend.

"Hey," he greets them both, twisting on the barstool he has perched himself on, fiddling with his phone to pass the time. The bag of clothes she had gathered earlier at his feet, so that in theory she had to come and find him before her escape.

It is his daughter who approaches him, though Kate isn't too far behind, hanging back for some unknown reason, looking a little hesitant, arms folded loosely across her chest.

"Is it okay if I go with Kate?" Alexis asks softly, her eyes hesitant.

He darts his eyes over to his partner, while she does look a little uncomfortable it doesn't seem to be about Alexis tagging along home with her, but more about Castle being left alone in his loft to his own devices. "We'll be back in an hour or so," Alexis adds quickly, her words are a rush as if she fears he will say no. he watches as his daughter turns back to Kate, looking for her confirmation. When the detective gives a small smile and nods in response he has never been more amazed by her, never more surprised. Though he is also suspicious, normally when the two of them are alone it is because one of them needs to talk, but this time he isn't sure which it is. Maybe this time there is no reason, he can only hope. But he is glad that if there is a reason for this, then they have one another.

"Of course you can, Pumpkin," he says softly, flicking his gaze between the two of them.

She hugs him, squeezes his neck. He hugs her back, but he is smiling at the detective over his shoulder.

He sighs when his daughter steps back, feigning dissatisfaction. "I guess this just means I have to fend for myself then," he teases them, prodding them for a reaction.

He sees Kate open her mouth to respond, but his daughter beats her to it.

"There are a draw full of take-out menus over there-" she gestures with her whole body, the dramatic flare running through his family,"-and see that big shiny thing?" She points to the fridge. "It is also full of food, you can find an array of items which will be to your liking. Some work well together, others… do not," she says, pulling a face in disgust.

He narrows his eyes at her and hears Kate laugh behind her.

"Have fun," he says softly, tugging his daughter into a quick goodbye hug before he kisses her forehead.

"We will," Alexis says conspicuous with her mischievous tone, giving Kate a wicked smile. The smile reassures him they both seem just fine. Alexis takes her exit then, headed for the door for shoes and her coat, he assumes.

He doesn't stand from his spot on the stool, just holds his hand out to his partner, willing her to come over and say goodbye.

After he kisses her, lingering for a second and then going back for another when she pulls away from him. She's always a little hesitant when Alexis is around, he knows it's not that she's embarrassed, its more than she doesn't want to make the girl uncomfortable. He's glad she understands the balance.

"So want to tell me what has prompted her to abandon me in favour of your company?" he asks softly, a hint of a tease in his tone to let her know he isn't serious. Although even if his daughter was deliberately abandoning him in favour of an evening with Kate he would understand completely.

"I don't know." She seems slightly concerned, her eyes widening a little. "I went up and told her to enjoy the night with you, you know, like I normally would. Then after a while she asked me if she could come back with me, she said she had something in mind, something she wanted to ask me about, something she needed my help with, promised me it was nothing to worry about, nothing bad." She is rushing, her words coming so quick he can barely catch them.

"It's fine," he assures, kissing her softly again and then she does something he doesn't see very often.

She grimaces. "What if I can't help her?" she whispers, not meeting his eyes. But he can see her face, it is not hidden by the mask of hair she often uses as a reflex to hide herself from him. He is so grateful for the way her hair is twisted against her scalp, providing her no shield from him.

"Hey," he lifts her chin with his fingers. "Whatever it is it'll be fine. You always know what to say," he offers, giving her a soft smile.

He sees it in her eyes as she nods her head and gives a soft "okay," the unwavering doubt doesn't leave her though.

"It'll be fine." He assures, picking up the bag from his feet, then guiding her toward the door with a hand at her waist.

He hands his daughter the bag, giving Kate an extra moment to slip into her coat and shoes again. His daughter tosses him a knowing look and it makes him wonder what she's up to. "I'll see you in a while," he farewells them softly, closing the door behind them.

He wonders what on earth his daughter needs advice with. The few times he knows she has called Kate in preference to him is that she felt she couldn't discuss it with him. He also wonders why Kate suddenly feels the pressure, he suspects it has to do with their relationship, but maybe it also has to do with not wanting to let Alexis down, knowing the issues she herself faced at that age, needing someone to talk to and wanting to be there, saying the right things.

He has to put them out of his mind, so he grabs the first take-out menu from the drawer and sets about deciding on his dinner. They'll be fine.

.

When they return a few hours later, laughing and joking from what he can hear, he rises from his spot on the couch in front of the television to greet them. "Hey," he says, touching Kate's shoulder before he speaks, leaning in close to press a kiss against her head. Apparently it had gone better than she expected. Her hair now hangs loose around her shoulders, he notices as she leans her shoulder back against his chest. Not vocalising his presence, still laughing with his daughter. He doesn't hear what they're saying, he doesn't need to know. His daughter smiles at them both he notices, darting her eyes between the two.

"Want a drink or something?" Castle notes how his daughter has her eyes focused on Kate.

When she shakes her head, he hums his approval. "Let's make smoothies," he exclaims over her head, eyes focused on his daughter as she beams back at him, eyes wide and excited. Then before he can blink the body of his partner has moved from in front of him, as has his daughter's. He spins on his heel to find his daughter tugging her across towards the kitchen, being met with no resistance as she explains that Kate simply _has_ to try the fruity concoction that her dad will make them. He hears his partner agree but he stays back, watching them, unable to keep the wide smile from his face, enjoying the moment. Then Alexis is shooting him daggers across the room, beckoning him over with a furious wave of her hand, insistent that he participate.

As they make and drink their smoothies he cannot stop marvelling at the women who have returned to his apartment. Whilst it pains him to admit it, yes his daughter can now only be described as a young woman. Whatever she and Kate discussed has given a new light heartedness to their interactions, he will have to thank them both later.

When he suggests they watch a movie he doesn't miss the look they exchange, he has no clue what it means but then Kate nods in approval to his daughter. Neither of them actually addressing him, but he assumes they are obliging when they head off ahead of him into the lounge room to wait while he rinses their glasses in the sink. When he joins them he finds Kate sitting on the floor, her back against the couch as Alexis twists her fingers through her hair, bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she concentrates.

When Kate flicks a wrist at the TV, saying nothing to him, he obeys her silent command. He puts on the first DVD he sees, some romantic comedy he knows they will enjoy. When he finishes he settles in next to his daughter, his arm around her shoulder with Kate using his leg as an armrest, absently touching his knee with her fingertips.

"What're you doing?" he asks after a moment, watching them as he waits for the DVD to stop flashing messages about copyright and piracy.

"Braiding," Alexis says simply, as if this simple statement explains the complex twists she is performing in his partners hair, spinning her fingers around slowly and carefully and then her speed increases as her movements change, like it is easier now. He recognises the twist formed in the hair as a plait, what came before is a mystery to him.

"Oh," he says softly, feigning understanding. She is either too distracted to notice or doesn't care that he fails to understand. Then Kate squeezes his knee lightly, listening, a silent assurance she'll explain later. He watches them for another fraction of a second, before he begins the awaiting movie.

"Done!" Alexis exclaims about a minute into the feature and Kate reaches up, patting her head gently.

"That's better than last time." His partner seems genuinely impressed with his daughter's efforts and he beams with pride, she has always been a fast learner.

Alexis leans forward, a little closer to Kate. "Do you mind if I try again?"

"Of course not," she says with a soft laugh, tangling her fingers through her hair, unravelling the careful work of his daughter, apparently happy to repeat the process.

Castle stops watching after his daughter prods his ribs with her elbow. "Stop staring, I can't focus."

"Sorry," he says rather sheepishly. He has no idea how or what she is doing but she has caught onto it rather quickly. Then he realises, this is how Kate had her hair twisted up this afternoon. When they'd been at the precinct she'd disappear for a few minutes, going to the bathroom, or at least that direction, and returned with her hair pulled back in this way, braided as it was apparently termed. Now he thinks he might just understand.

He forces himself to stare at the movie on the screen, until Alexis exclaims "Done" again.

Except this time Kate doesn't touch her hands to her head to check. She slides across the floor, turning to face them both, sitting on his foot, his knee cradled under her arm, her hand on his thigh. "Okay new challenge, I'll teach you to braid your own hair. You can try yourself completely but that's pretty difficult first go, or I can start you off," Kate offers, there is no hint of challenge or competition in her voice.

Alexis' eyes go wide. "Sure, can you start it off for me this time?" she suggests.

Kate nods in what seems to be understanding. "Of course." Then they're swapping places, his partner snuggling against his side and his daughter against the couch between his partner's knees.

He waits until the process is started and she is distracted before he runs his hand over the skin at the bottom of her back, peeking out from beneath her sweater. When she jerks slightly in response he presses his lips to her cheek, reassuring her who it is, that she was just too caught up in her task to notice him. "This is all she had to ask?" he whispers against her skin, keeping his voice low so his daughter can't hear.

She nods and he kisses her again, gently. Then she is speaking to his daughter, guiding the girls hands, telling her that her movements are backwards to what she has been doing and that it will be much harder. "Yeah, this is it," she whispers, turning to face him.

"So there were no dramas?" He kisses her softly, tugging her towards him, selfishly stealing her attention from his daughter for a moment.

"None at all," she says softly, kissing him once more before turning her attention back to Alexis. Then she is gone again, almost completely removed from his embrace, save the hand he has left rest against her back, between her shoulder blades. She is correcting Alexis, guiding the girl's hands with her own gently.

He doesn't draw her attention back, they need this. Things like shopping trips are not on either of their radars – unless of course they have a purpose. So if they want to spend hours on end twisting their hair into tight knots then he won't deny them, though he doubts he could ever deny one of them anything, let alone the both of them. His daughter has clearly been missing this skill through her life, needed someone to show her. Sure his mother had been there, but she was never much for playing hairdresser with his daughter. He had managed to master the ponytail and pigtails, but learning to plait had taken him weeks so he had never been more adventurous and she hadn't minded, never vocalised anything to him. Then he finds himself wondering who his partner would have learnt this skill from her mother, or maybe a friend. Whoever it was has lead to his partners improved ability to form a relationship with his daughter, he wishes he could thank them. Instead he settles for pressing a kiss against the skin behind Kate's ear. The way she leans into his touch, causing him to slip his arm around her again and kiss her again, makes him realise she is more than aware his daughter has never really had someone to show her these things. He hopes she will keep sharing, fill in some of the gaps he came so close to filling.


	5. Friday

**Frugal Friday**

While the detectives around him fill out reports, passing witness statements between them, staying completely silent, no words required as they work with practiced ease. Castle doesn't make a sound as he plays on his phone (he has learnt after being on the receiving end of many glares and kicks to the shin under the desk), his focus solely on the game. Until his phone buzzes in his hands, a motion which has not been generated by the game.

_Put your tongue back in your mouth,_ he reads and realises she is right. Quickly he removes his tongue from his bottom lip where it had been hovering in concentration. He swallows at the thought that for once she is the one studying him while he is unaware, while she appears busy. Simultaneously he raises his eyes from his phone in front of him, gazing at the sender as she busily works, not even raising her eyes to him or shifting her body in acknowledgement. She is giving away no hint that she has even acknowledged him, let alone sent him a text.

_Distracting you is it?_ he quickly types in reply, sending it, watching her intently for the moment the phone buzzes in her pocket, or across her desk buried somewhere beneath all that paper. Except he hears no sound, sees no startle as it shocks her, doesn't see her slip up and inhale sharply. He doesn't even realise she's read it until his phone buzzes in his hand. He jumps, almost out of his skin. This time he notices the tiny raise, just at the corner of her mouth, but he sees it. He enjoys these interactions, everyone around them completely unaware, it has been happening more and more each week.

_Not really, but you are distracting me now_.

_You started it. Plus you've got this little crinkle on your forehead when you're thinking, it's cute._ If he spoke the words aloud he would surely receive a bruise to the bicep, but it would be worth it to see her flush against him. He sees the second she reads it, the deepening of that crinkle. _That one_, he types quickly.

When she turns to look at him she has her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling at the corners of her mouth and she is shaking her head at him.

"Almost done?" he asks, breaking the silence which surrounds all of them. "I'm getting hungry." He rubs his stomach lightly, flicking his eyes at the clock, emphasising his point, knowing that if he doesn't head home soon his daughter will call to enquire if she is going to be eating without them.

She sighs, meeting the expectant gaze of the others. "Okay let's call it a night," she offers, sighing. One more hour and this pile wouldn't be hanging over her head all weekend. Not that long ago she would have come in tomorrow to finish it off, or stayed late to get it done. But not anymore, not now. If she doesn't go home, or insists on coming in over the weekend, he will come and get her, usher her out and back to his place, or hers, or just out to explore the city with him. She appreciates it, more than she would ever let on, it is nice to have something to ground her to life and not just work, not just death.

Esposito and Ryan both practically ran out the door, grabbing their coats and calling goodbyes over their shoulders before she has even shut down her computer. Apparently they had been waiting for her cue, discontent in staying but not willing to vocalise the complaint.

When Castle climbs into the car beside her he is on the phone to Alexis, discussing dinner plans with his daughter. Apparently the girl is home, asking if they'll be coming back to the loft. When he covers the mouthpiece to confirm she is, she kisses his cheek, leaning over the console and whispering, "Sure" as she pulls back.

"Actually Pumpkin, don't order. I think I want to take you girls out, somewhere nice," he says quickly into the phone, never taking his eyes from her, giving her an intense gaze. But she doesn't return it.

"Castle, it's been a long week, can't we just order something and watch some TV. I'm too tired to go out in public," she says it softly, touching his knee as she speaks. She really doesn't feel like going for dinner, even if it is just somewhere low-key and intimate.

When his hand covers hers, his mouth formed in a small 'o' as he also listens to his daughter on the end of the line as well as her. "Okay Sweetie, we'll be home soon," he says into the phone before hanging it up, sliding it into his pocket. She ignores the fact he just referred to his loft as home, he does it every-so-often. Gentle slips of the tongue, assuring her she is welcome, whether intentional or not they do ring true. She does consider the loft partly her home, they have welcomed her there, plus it is his home, his daughter's home and she is basically there most of the week, her apartment left neglected most of the time. She had affirmed at the beginning of their relationship he wasn't to dessert his daughter every second night of the week, so he had continually invited her over, including her, and it had stuck.

She raises her eyebrow at him in question, silently asking if they are in fact going out. While she doesn't feel like it, if Alexis has insisted then she will appease the young woman.

"Alexis has a big presentation first thing Monday, worth forty percent of her final grade. She insists she needs all the time on it she can get. So it looks like Chinese camped out in the living room listening to my daughter practise her speech." He sounds like he is apologising and then when he kisses her softly she realises he is.

She hums contentedly. "That sounds better than going out," she whispers, the proximity of the car and the space from the day causing her to brush her nose along his cheek, kissing it once before withdrawing.

"Oh, you will not be saying that soon enough," he warns, raising his eyebrows. "Once my daughter has to give a speech she rehearses it vehemently, taking it apart and putting it back together until it is perfect." Despite sounding daunted by the task he has just explained, he is also proud and Kate doesn't miss it.

She raises a brow at him again. "Then we'll help her, make it perfect before she drives you to insanity. I don't fancy visiting you in a mental institution," she taunts, giving him her best teasing smile, making sure she withdraws, turning the key in the ignition, moving to pull out into the traffic.

"At least you'd visit," he says softly, lean his head against the corner of his seat, looking over at her.

She just shakes her head before she settles into driving, having found her gap in the mirror while he spoke.

"Aren't you going to order?" She glances at him as she drives, navigating the late evening traffic with practised ease.

"Usual?" he asks softly, touching her elbow trying to steal her attention for another second.

She nods. "Stop stalling and order, or we'll have to sit and wait in the car," she says to him when he doesn't immediately dial.

"Maybe I wouldn't mind a little alone time in the cruiser," he quips then catches the hand which comes flying toward his chest, giving it a gentle squeeze and pressing a kiss to the back of it, then one to her knuckles. Then tugs his phone back out of his pocket, searching his phonebook. She doesn't let go of his hand, which surprises him, but she also doesn't address his blatant innuendo, which surprises him more. The quick wit of Kate Beckett has taken pause this evening, that or he has filled her mind with too many images and scenarios which are assaulting her, rendering her unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

When she pulls up near his building, only half a block away from the door he doesn't feel the car stop so he is more than a little surprised when she kisses his neck, her mouth hot and open, her tongue darting out to taste his skin. He quickly forgets the email he had just been reading, dropping his phone into his lap freeing his hand so he can twist his fingers into her hair, relishing the closeness as she works a hot trail up to his ear. She touches her teeth to his earlobe, grazing it then soothing it with her tongue he hisses at the contact and he pushes her along his jawline. The aforementioned images assaulting him now, he suspects this was her intent.

As her lips graze along his cheek he twists so he is facing her, shortening the distance she has left to travel, unable to wait out her torturously slow pace. He touches his lips to hers lightly, feathering her with kisses and she smiles against his mouth.

She slides her hand along his thigh not breaking eye contact. She is smirking at his narrowed eyes, as she glides her fingers down to his knee before grabbing the plastic bag from between his knees. "Later," she promises, pulling away far too quickly, discontinuing her sensory revenge before he can become too absorbed in the moment. "Let's eat." She's proud of herself, not very often does she have a chance to catch him unaware.

Later, she finds herself sprawled across his couch, the laptop on her lap, connected to both the power supply and the projector Alexis had set up before they arrived. When they walked into the lounge room Castle had kissed her cheek, whispered that the girl liked to be able to see it how her audience would, but Kate hadn't been too shocked, it made sense to have a plan. Alexis had explained her presentation, a dissection and comparison of the similarities and differences between a Shakespearean play and a modern text of her own choosing, simple enough it was just the vast amounts of content she had to work with that she was struggling to confine to five minutes that was posing most difficult.

When she had reconnected the projector Alexis had thrown her a look of shock, but she already had a hand up to silence the girl's protests, reconnecting it – adjusting the settings so the presentation could be viewed on the projector and she could browse the web and offer assistance. The startled look on the girl's face only deepened when she offered an insight the girl hadn't spotted.

They then spent hours dissecting Alexis' well-thought out texts, the adults offering a few points the girl had missed on her own analysis. Before she knows it, Castle is rising from his position on the floor, cracking his back and clapping his hands together. "Bedtime," he says certainly, not giving either of them an option. Then when she looks at the digital display in the corner of the computer she notes that it is approaching midnight.

She saves the document carefully, unplugs the device from the projector and unplugs the power, closing the lid forcing it into hibernation until tomorrow. When she twines the power cord up and rests it atop the laptop she notices Castle is beside her, already slipping the projector into its case and resting it beside the laptop. Alexis drops her notebook onto the laptop, walking across the floor on her knees toward them both. She gives her dad a hug, muttering thanks in his ear as she kisses his cheek. Then she flicks her eyes to Kate, finding her watching the interaction.

Kate tries not to flush at being caught admiring the pair, their unique relationship. One she used to share with her own father. She has always admired the lengths Castle would go to for his daughter, but now she understands it. Before Kate can blink, Alexis has moved over, leaning over her knee, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you for your help, I know you didn't come over to do more paperwork," she whispers. Kate gives a soft laugh and pulls the girl closer.

"I didn't want to be anywhere else tonight," she confesses softly.

In response Alexis withdraws, gives her a puzzled look, that she knows Castle can't see through the veil of hair. "Goodnight," she whispers in her ear as she tugs the girl back for another quick hug. Alexis kisses her hair before withdrawing back, slipping from the room. The fact she takes the tattered, library-borrowed copy of the Shakespearean tragedy with her doesn't escape Kate's notice, keeping it behind her back, expecting to be chastised.

She is smiling after his daughter when he wraps both arms around her, kissing her cheek. "I didn't know you knew so much about Shakespeare," he mutters against her skin.

"I did go to high school too, Castle," she chastises. "I took a few literature classes in college, remember?" she teases, he has been told all of this, he shouldn't be too surprised. But she kisses him slowly, gently. She understands the sentiment he is trying to express, how she has helped his daughter this evening and he is grateful. She wants to tell him that he doesn't have to be, that she would have helped Alexis even if they weren't involved and the girl needed some help. But she doubts he would believe that truth.

"I know," he kisses her again, "I know. I just forget sometimes that you read so much." His voice again her lips sends a shiver through her.

"I know," she acknowledges. He has seen her read, examined her bookshelf and gone with her to the library. But he has never heard her analyse a book, pick it apart piece by piece. It changes how you view someone, shows you how they think.

"Come on, let's go to bed," she says as she stands, tugging his arm gently, letting him drop kisses to her shoulders and neck as he follows her to his bed.


	6. Saturday

**Slow Saturday**

She wakes to him kissing her back. she enjoys the feeling, relishing it until his exhale against her wet skin causes her to shiver.

He doesn't stop, just slides his hand over her shoulder and along her arm, searching out her hand in the hazey light of his bedroom, curtains shut tight against the threat of morning.

She hums contentedly against the feeling of his body hovering over her, deliberately shifting back a little, not finding the contact she craves. He is so close to her but not touching that it is torture, it is as if his contact is full-bodied and completely skin to skin. But it isn't, both wrapped in pyjamas and an inch separating them and it's much too far.

She rolls onto her back as his kisses begin to sneak around her waist, finding her stomach, continuing his trail of lazy kisses across her belly. She runs her fingers through his hair now that she can see his face, has her arms free to respond, his own busy supporting his weight. When he stops his movements, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze, giving her a lazy lopsided grin, she tugs him up by the hair, kissing him deeply in greeting. She can taste the morning on his tongue, taste what she is assuming is her own taste, the sweat which has dried on her skin while she slept. It sounds revolting, but he sure isn't complaining. "Hi," she says softly when she pulls away, his thumbs grazing the skin at her hip as his intense gaze studies her face.

He hums contentedly before kissing her again. "Hey," he says into her mouth, not willing to remove himself from her just yet. When she is unguarded after sleep she always lets him hover much closer than she would if she were fully awake and aware. He relishes these intimate moments, kissing her and touching her in the confines of the bed, wrapped in the sheets as if it is their own little world, their own cocoon.

"Been awake long?" she asks softly, turning her head from his mouth, refusing him another kiss so she can speak.

"Nope." He kisses her cheek, her neck, then whispers in her ear. "Rolled over to say good morning to find you curled up on your side, all the way over here," he nudges her with his nose, accusing her. She is positioned unusually far from their normal sleeping position in his large bed, but it happens sometimes, they gravitate apart despite falling asleep as a tangle of limbs.

"So you just had to wake me up?" she quips, arching her neck so he has to stop his path and meet her mouth.

"Of course," he punctuates the statement by dropping another kiss to her lips, lingering there. "No, I actually," he confesses, "thought you were reading, all curled up over here. I tried to distract you but you ignored me," he laughs softly against her mouth.

She runs her fingers through his hair again, keeping him close to her so she can kiss him again. Her tongue darting out to touch his lower lip, silently urging him to let her in, except she doesn't , she takes his bottom lip between her teeth, dragging them over the skin. He groans against her mouth, forgetting to hold his weight off her small frame and slipping both arms around her, easing all his weight down against her. She doesn't make a sound, continuing her torture as he squeezes himself against her chest a moment until her lungs scream for oxygen starved by the kiss and suffocated by his weight on her chest and she gives a sharp intake of breath.

"Not ignoring you," she says softly. She certainly isn't now. Waking up to him twisting his tongue over her skin has made that impossible. Waking up beside him has always proven interesting. "You know I'm between books," she quips, offering the unspoken acknowledgement that she is basically waiting for him to finish his latest.

"I know, you were just curled up like you do when you read," he says softly, kissing her again.

She shrugs, he pays so much attention to her. He could describe every expression she has ever given him, explain almost every emotion which has crossed her face and tell the world how she would react to any situation. He already has, multiple times, in more than a few thousand words. "I don't always read like that," she defends, only half convincing herself so she knows he won't believe it.

"Yes, you do," he scoffs, not at all fooled. "I think it's adorable," he laughs at her again, dropping a kiss to her lips, ignoring her as she attempts to shove him off, her efforts only half-hearted.

"We should get up. I heard Alexis clanging around out there earlier, trying to be quiet but failing," he laughs, kissing her once more before he rolls off her and onto the floor, extending a hand to her, offering, knowing she won't take it. He's right.

She slides out of his bed with practised ease and ducks under his arm. "I'll be a sec," she says as she heads toward his bathroom.

* * *

><p>When she slips out of his bedroom and into the living area, moving toward the noises in the kitchen she is surprised when she is greeted by the sight of her partner sitting on a stool and Alexis, spatula in hand, poised at the end of the bench within eyeshot of the cooktop as she greets her father, talking to him softly in a voice Kate can't hear.<p>

"Morning," she greets the girl with a smile as she is spotted, Alexis moving along the counter, motioning her over.

"Hey, sleep okay?" Alexis asks softly.

"I did actually," Kate responds softly. Normally she asks these questions to Alexis, not the other way around. "You?"

"Yeah I did. Well I hope you're both hungry. I've cooked up everything we had as a kind of thank-you for your help. I know I said already but-"

"I told you," she touches the girl's hand, "you do not need to thank me. I wanted to help," she says softly. Ignoring her partner as he silently watches them, memorising the situation.

"Well then consider this an incentive… I want to get some more done this morning then dad said we would go watch a movie and go out for dinner later?" she is explaining, but asking permission at the same time. Her hesitant offer is leaving it wide open for Kate to join her while she works or to simply do other things.

She smiles at the girl's suggestions, how had they planned this in the two minutes she had been in the bathroom? It didn't matter, it sounded like a great way to spend her Saturday.

"Want to put on some toast for me?" she asks her dad, tearing her gaze from Kate's.

"I'll do it," the older woman offers, touching her partners arm as he moves to get up. "Coffee," she requests softly, prodding him, a crucial component of her morning routine.

He just nods once and steps around her, each tending to their separate task, readying their meal.

"That was really good Pumpkin," Castle exclaims, standing to gather the dishes to load the dishwasher. His daughter has cooked so it is only fair he cleans up. He grabs them all before either woman can, both distracted as they drink the last of their juice.

He doesn't miss the look they exchange below him. "I'll help your dad with these and you can shower then we'll get started," Kate offers, acknowledging that she will help his daughter.

Almost instantly Alexis ducks from the room, heading upstairs after giving a hesitant smile to each of them. Kate follows him into the kitchen, taking the dishes from him once he has rinsed them, stacking them into the dishwasher. They don't say anything as they work. Before she knows it, he has passed her the last dish and is sliding his damp hands up her arms as she places the plate on the rack. "You know I love you right?" he mutters softly, wrapping his arms around her

"I've heard a rumour," she says softly, her tone conspiring, her eyebrow raised in challenge, her mouth turned up at the corners. She never stops faltering when he says he loves her, she still doesn't quite believe it is possible that she is here. But then he goes and says it again, he always does, as if he knows she doesn't quite believe she deserves it.

He kisses her softly. "I love you," he kisses her cheek. "So much," he whispers in her ear, sending a dual shiver through her body.

She pulls back, kisses him softly. "I love you too," she slowly, watching his eyes dance as they always do when she confesses to him. She doesn't always return the words, but always acknowledges he has said them. She's just not someone who vocalises her feelings, she would rather show him.

"I've got to get dressed. Alexis will be downstairs in a few minutes expecting my help. You going to write some?" she guesses.

He nods in confirmation. "I've got some editing to do," he says, disdain laced in his throat.

She laughs at him. "Okay," she kisses him once more before unthreading herself from his grasp, headed off to his bedroom to find something to wear.

He wants to follow her, undress her, keep kissing her, keep their proximity, but he knows she's right. His daughter will be back in a few moments, so he fetches his laptop, taking it out into the dining room so he can be amongst the activity, but far enough away that he will be able to focus on his work. He loves the thought of spending days with his daughter and his partner, not needing to take them out and impress them to keep them entertained, but simply exist in the same space as them to make them content.


	7. Sunday

**Soured Sunday**

They haven't spoken directly to one another since arriving at the scene. They had absorbed the horror, no words necessary to describe the woman brutally murdered, her children mutilated and tortured until their tiny bodies gave out and the father alive, his wounds most apparent. The pools of blood, splattered on what seemed like every inch of that home had been a landmine, a difficult course to navigate to reach their witness. He had touched the small of her back, to all unassuming eyes he was being chivalrous. But they both knew he was offering her comfort, the fact she hadn't pulled away was her own. She had sent Esposito and Ryan off to talk to the neighbours, the effects of the scene visible to her. As they climbed had meandered back through the house had found out the boys had only arrived fifteen minutes before them.

They have returned to the car, the horrific interview with the survivor complete for now. He doesn't expect her to pull straight into the traffic, barely taking pause to strap herself in, she certainly doesn't look to check if he had time. It surprises him, normally she checks her notes, reviewing for the best place to start, sometimes finding a fact and asking his opinion. But this evening she already knows what her plan is. He is so busy watching her, worried, concerned that he hasn't bothered to strap himself in. When she makes a sharp turn, not slowing the car enough he crashes against the door.

"Kate…" he says softly, his eyes studying her as she stares out the windscreen something, he flicks his gaze, checking where they are, what this is about. He realises it is just an alcove in the buildings, a driveway of sorts. She must want to talk, must need a minute before they proceed, or head back to the precinct.

Of course he has seen some horrific things during his time working with her, but this case knocks any others right off the perch. It is so unnecessarily violent, so much overkill that he wonders how she will continue. He has only ever seen one other case have such an immediate and profound effect on her, her mother's .

Then she has her arms flung around him, clutching at him, needing him, unable to hold herself together.

He kisses her hair, her forehead, her cheek, but it isn't enough to stop her body wracking with sobs. He crushes her against his chest a little tighter, the pressure seems to comfort her, and she digs her nails into his shoulder seeking more.

"I know, I know," he mutters, steeling himself against the wave of grief which threatens to overcome him.

When the sobs taper off to ragged hiccups she speaks, her voice thick with the emotion she is still fighting, her eyes too shiny with tears to look at him. He understands. She's just spent an hour in those rooms examining the bodies, studying the details of the home, interviewing the father, hearing him speak all the horrific details, and providing a lone strength in his haze of grief. The father had kept repeating how he hadn't been able to stop them, each time she asked a question.

Beckett had only glanced at Castle a few times through the whole interview, giving her full attention to the victim. He had offered her nods and smiles he knew were weak, but he knew she understood he was telling her she was doing the best things possible, not setting a foot wrong. No matter his way with words, he has never fully understood how to coax information from a witness to such a vicious crime.

When she pulls away from him, moving to swipe her eyes, check her mascara hasn't run, her eyeliner hasn't smudged he takes her hands, leaning over in front of her, kissing her softly. "We'll catch them," he mutters when he pulls back, promising her.

He sees her swallow then give a small smile. "I know," she says softly, a gleam in her eye as she digs her notebook from her pocket. She's turning pages, she has so many notes. This is what he expected earlier.

"Where do we start?" he asks softly, normally he can pick where she will begin, who her most likely suspect is. But this time he has nothing, they have very little information other than the horrific details of the crime. He suspects she doesn't have anything else either, he was shadowing her afterall. But before they can investigate any possible forensic leads, they need to be examined and comprehended by the experts. There is so much evidence that it is likely the tech team will have a long night ahead of them as they catalogue and analyse every inch of the house.

She pulls out her phone, checking in with the boys. He watches her steel herself while she waits for them to answer. He doesn't hear what the guys are saying, but he can predict it based on the expression on her face. They've come up empty as well. Their wait on forensics now an almost certainty, canvas further in the morning. Sunday early evening doesn't seem to agree with the people of this neighbourhood, people are either not home or haven't seen anything, making for a very quick canvas apparently. He hears how disgruntled she is by this fact.

He wonders how people can be tortured and murdered and their neighbours cannot hear a thing, none of them paying attention, continuing on with their lives.

She mentions a doctor, tells Ryan to give him a call, request he make room for their live victim in his busy schedule. Help the man through his grief. She is wrapping it up with the guys and he finds himself getting hopeful about where she is going. They may have found out the basics, but until tomorrow nothing is going to be available, at least not from the best sources and she will only work with the best, especially on this.

"First thing tomorrow," she instructs, hanging up the phone.

Then she's checking in with Gates, tells her they have hit a dead end. Then he sees Beckett smile, flick her gaze at him for the first time since her first call. "I will Sir," she says softly to the other woman. Castle suppresses a shiver, he understands why the woman insists on being referred to as Sir, but that doesn't mean it doesn't freak him out. Even after all this time. Except whatever the other woman said caused his partner to smile for the first time since the call about the drop arrived, interrupting their planned pre-dinner trip for ice-cream.

When Beckett hangs up he touches her hand as she drops her phone into the console between them. "Home?" he inquires, hopeful. He sees her fight it for a second, fight the urge to go back to the station and sit on her desk after building a murderboard, setting out what they already know, digging into the financials, ruling out the unlikely scenario of the husband being behind this.

He would never admit it to his daughter, but he needs to see her after seeing the horror of that scene. But if Kate insists on heading to the precinct or some alone time at her apartment he won't refuse, his daughter will be waiting when they go back to eat.

She nods, not saying anything simply slipping her fingers from his and reversing from the alley back out into the traffic. He realises they are headed straight to his place as she loops around the block. He is grateful she understands.

"Gates is setting up a tipline, she's going to hold a press conference soon," she speaks, back to business, for now. "She said she'll call if they get anything worth following up. They've admitted the father to hospital, they had to sedate him," she says softly, meeting his gaze for a second then returning her attention to the road, navigating the traffic with such ease that it has always made him envious.

"We'll go in first thing in the morning. No complaints from me, I promise," his tone teasing, lightening the mood.

She gives half a laugh in response. They both know it isn't likely, but the sentiment means the same. He will climb out of bed when she does, get her coffee and fix something for her to eat while she showers. Then he'll duck into the shower and pretend to be surprised when she ushers him out the door before he can get his shoes on his feet.

* * *

><p>He unlocks the door, finds his daughter still sprawled across the floor in front of the projector and laptop, mumbling in hushed tones under her breath as she reads from a set of flash card. Running through her speech, he assumes. He just stands a moment, watching her, his partner shuffling in the closet behind him, putting her coat away, he assumes again. He needs the moment to take in the sight of his daughter, absorb that she is infact still before him, alive, breathing and as focused as she normally is. When Kate touches his arm, kisses his cheek then slips past him headed toward his daughter. He hears her greet the girl softly.<p>

"Hey." Her greeting is light-hearted, as if they haven't just spent an afternoon surrounded by horrors and finding no answers.

Alexis simply raises a finger in a 'one-moment' gesture. Beckett surprises him, sitting on the floor crossed legged in front of his daughter, waiting patiently for her to finish.

He goes to step forward and join them, his feet heavy on the floor. His shoes not sliding across the floor easily like he expected his socks to. He stops and stares at his feet. He hasn't taken off his shoes, or even his heavy coat. Mournfully he looks back at them, then away from the sight, toward the closet already tugging off his shoes and coat, trying to hurry so he can join them.

When he finally is free to join them it is Kate who is reading the speech, flipping the palm cards over in her hands, mumbling under her breath, checking the words make sense when spoken aloud, checking Alexis won't fumble upon delivery. His daughter greets him with a wide smile, patting the floor beside her. Once he's pulled himself onto the floor he tugs her into his side, kissing the side of her head. "Finished your speech?" he asks his daughter.

He receives a slap to the knee from his partner. Apparently he has broken her concentration.

Alexis smiles at his partner, then turns her attention back to him and he grimaces at the girl, feigning regret, gesturing that the woman beside them is crazy. But she is nodding her head, intelligently choosing to remain silent, not even acknowledge his joke.

"It's great Alexis," she says, genuinely impressed as she smiles widely at her. "You'll do great." She hands the stack of palm cards back to the girl, moving to sit on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her.

"I thought you guys wouldn't be home for hours, catch the guy already?" she asks, eyes wide with a unique kind of wonder and amazement.

Castle looks at his partner, his daughter follows suit. The amazement dropping from her face, it apparent among the pair that the case was not as open and shut as their early return home suggests.

Kate bites her lip, shakes her head. "Not yet," she says, her voice grim but she gives the girl half a smile. They will, all that violence, there has to be evidence. She doesn't vocalise the thought, Alexis knows her well enough to know she is serious.

Alexis bites her lip, she's seen the tension pass across Kate's face, just like he had. He squeezes his daughter closer, the look on his partner's face reminding him too much of that scene so he kisses her temple, then leans over to whisper reassurances. "We will. But it's a tough one," he says quietly.

He catches his partner's narrowed eyes but doesn't say anything. He knows she can't hear a word he is saying, but she isn't about to admit that she wants to know.

"I'm going to shower. Will dinner be ready when I get back?" he quips lightly, looking from his partner to his daughter. Each have raised a brow to him in challenge, his eyes widen and dart between the pair of them. "Okay then, we'll just work it out which of you is cooking when I get back," he ceases the opportunity, unable to resist. But it never fails to shocks him how the two women before him are so attuned to one another, neither aware. He gives a soft shudder as he turns his back on them, headed to the shower to rid his skin of the smell of dried blood.

* * *

><p>"Miss me?" he greets them both after quickly finding them on either side of the kitchen island. Alexis stops reading her speech, turning to give him a pointed look. He isn't sure whether it is due to the fact he spoke or if it is specifically linked to his comment. He narrows his eyes at the girl in response, moving towards them both, choosing to stand next to his partner seeing as his daughter is being so unwelcoming. It is then he catches sight of what his partner has in front of her. She is cooking in his kitchen. Well, she has barely made a dent in the task. She has an array of vegetables on a chopping board, a mixing bowl where those she has finished with reside. His chest swells, just like it always does when she does these small things in his home. Getting herself a glass of water, not bothering to ask his permission before she showers, grabbing his spare key off the hook telling him she was getting the ice-cream, then not bothering to put it back later.<p>

"What's cooking?" he mutters, touching both hands to her hips then slipping his arms around her middle, bending to rest his chin on her shoulder. He doesn't broach the fact he did suggest that they start dinner, but he knows she wouldn't be doing for that reason. She's probably starving, hurrying along the process.

"Just stir fry," she shrugs it off, sliding her shoulders against his chest. "Can you check the chicken for me?" she asks, gesturing with her head to the microwave, almost head-butting him.

He hums in the affirmative then kisses the side of her head, before moving away to follow her instructions.

"Don't start again." Kate's voice cuts through his concentration as he works to cut the chicken into chunks, evenly sized, carefully slicing the fat from the breast as he goes.

He glances up, realises she is speaking to Alexis, flicks his gaze between the two. He opens his mouth to speak but Kate beats him to it. He is lucky, he isn't even sure what he'd been planning to say, or he had even been intending to address.

"You need to stop, give your brain time to remember it, to practise recalling it. If you just keep repeating it for another few hours then it will become so mixed up you will make a mistake." Her voice isn't threatening, it isn't even authoritative (at least not to the extent he's seen at work, in that interrogation room, in the field). But he can see she is carefully putting her foot down, careful to avoid his eyes, fixing on his daughter. Like she knows she's right, but if she looks at him she may waiver.

He sees his daughter consider her words. He watches her as she digests, watches her immediately go to refuse, protest and continue despite his partner.

Alexis nods slowly, warily. "Okay," she whispers.

He notices for the first time the tight braid wound through his daughter's hair, a new addition since their return home. Her hair was definitely loose when they returned, he had marvelled at her, memorised every feature of her. So he is certain. He wonders if Alexis did it herself, then gazes at the palm cards, now face-down and piled neatly off to the side. Now he wishes he had never showered, missing another moment between the two of them.

He cooks the chicken while she dices some onion. His daughter has begun chatting animatedly to them both, filling them in on the latest news about her friends. He realises Kate was right, Alexis has been talking about the speech almost non-stop since Friday night. She has been living and breathing it, taking this moment to slide back into reality. He always forgets to stop her when she becomes so determined. He is so proud of her drive and motivation, so used to her past refusals of taking breaks and having some fun that he forgets sometimes she needs a break, to stop her working herself into the ground. He must remember this the next time his partner refuses to call it a night, attempts to push on with the case at some impossible hour.

Then she's there, crowding him, inspecting his work. She places the mixing bowl down on the counter beside him, the sauce as well. Apparently her work is done he notes as kisses his cheek, sliding her arms around his middle as she hugs him from the side.

He notices he can't hear his daughter anymore, so he turns to look over Kate's head at her, finds her missing.

"Her phone rang," she explains.

He meets her gaze, loves when she has to look up at him. The difference a reminder of work and home, providing him a distinguishing feature reminding him when he can and can't touch her. "Thanks," he mutters, dropping a kiss against her lips.

She draws her brows together when she pulls away, opens her mouth to question him.

"For looking out for her," he says softly. When she regards him warily he wants to laugh aloud at her foolishness, how she can't see that she has helped his daughter, made her realise a point neither of the others had thought of. "Stopping her," he explains when she doesn't catch on after a minute, "was the best thing. She can read it until her heart is content later, for now we all need a break."

She laughs at him, long and quite loud. He is confused. He thought she would appreciate him acknowledging her efforts with his daughter, her attempt to keep their sanity. Apparently not.

"Why is that funny?" he stammers, trying to dampen his tone with a tease, not succeeding to his usual standards.

"It's not." She swallows, physically stopping the laughter. "I stopped her because I know it. I can remember everything she is about to say and I didn't even write it. So she knows it well enough, she just has to have the confidence to recall it without prompts. If I can, she can," she explains slowly, cautiously, like she will offend him with her words, offend him by taking care of his daughter. If only she knew neither of them will ever be possible. Even if she tries and fails, he will be grateful if she tries, no one else has ever put the effort in, not even the girl's mother.

He draws his head back, pushing her body back with the arm he has around her waist. He studies her. "You can remember the whole thing?" he asks, incredulous, glad for the opportunity to lighten the mood.

"Word for word." She's smug now, realising that he doesn't remember. Although he hasn't spent the time with this speech that she has, but he has had a considerable number before this one. But this time he didn't spend his Saturday morning revising and rewriting sections until they were perfect. He didn't help her make the palm cards this morning, helpfully cutting the cardboard into squares while his daughter cut the paper, then methodically smearing the paper with glue and passing it off so she can stick it to the card.

He drops the large spoon, not bothering to worry if it has fallen onto the counter, onto the floor, onto the burner or into the wok. Wherever it is they can worry about it later, right now he has to have both arms free to crush her against his body. If it is burning they will smell it before long.

She squirms against his chest, as he kisses her hair, her cheeks and her neck, whatever he can reach as she moves.

"Thank you," he says as he finally stills her movements, crushing her with enough pressure to still her, show her this is serious.

"Castle…" she begins, but fails. She doesn't know how to explain it, explain that his thanks aren't necessary. She helped Alexis because she wanted to do something else with the girl. Something to prove herself to his daughter, anyone can teach her to braid her hair, well almost anyone. But not everyone knows Shakespeare like she does, not everyone has her eye for detail. So she had used her skills to both their advantage, given Alexis an extra pair of eyes, a fresh perspective.

"Thank you for taking the time, Kate." He touches his lips to hers, the briefest of contacts and she smiles shyly at him, after seeing his sincerity.

"Always," she promises. She means it. His daughter has always been an integral part of their relationship (how could she now be?). But now she is also becoming a foundation to it, joining them as a cementing feature, holding them together, providing a sense of regularity and routine. She is sure that if the girl weren't there the relationship probably wouldn't exist as it does. She doubts she would take the time to stand with him in his kitchen and cook dinner with him. it wouldn't be that she wouldn't want to, it would be that she never had a reason to force herself and he would surely not push her too far.

Then the damn oil pops, spitting out and grazing her hand, ruining their moment. When she jumps he is instantly asking if it got her, if she is okay. She assures him she's fine, sucking the tiny spot on the back of her hand into her mouth for a second, soothing the burn, knowing as soon as the oil is removed from her skin it will stop.

She watches him fight the urge to watch her, instead choosing last second to tend to their dinner, finally. She suggests he tips in the veggies, give them a minute then add the sauce. She kisses his cheek. Grabs bowls from the cupboard, switches off the rice cooker had hiding in the corner, opening the lid letting the hot steam dissapate, tipping the contents into a crockery dish, then heads off the find Alexis, motion her back for her food.

She never thought she would be in a relationship like this, not a health adult relationship, assisting a single dad care for his already grown daughter. But she is and it is more than she ever thought she'd ever have, ever be lucky enough to find. More she has thought she ever deserved, but they seem to think she deserves them.

When she finds Alexis on the far side of her bed, away from the door, she lays across the quilt, joining her, waiting while she wraps up the call. "Food'll be ready in a minute," she says softly as soon as the girl ends the call.

Alexis smiles. "You left him alone with it?"

Kate feigns wariness and regert, moves as if she is about to slide off the bed to rescue their food, then smiles as the girl laughs softly.

"We still have a minute though," she says softly.

Alexis looks up at her curious. Kate begins the speech for the girl, putting her on the spot, saying only enough to prompt her to continue. She skims the greeting and introduction. Jumping right into the second palm card, she can actually picture the spot on the offending card. Her memory for these things isn't even that great.

When Alexis regards her, timid, she nods, encouraging her. She repeats the same phrase, urging the girl with a raised eyebrow and an expectant look. Her repetition of the girl's words to her, the words she herself helped tailor, the words she has heard the girl repeat upwards of twenty times, this evening alone, finally prompts her to join.

Then she stops, letting Alexis take over. When she concludes she doesn't say "thank you for your time" or any of the number of conclusions they tried and tested. She says, "Thank you for everything." She is clutching her so tight Kate is startled initially, not by the contact, they are becoming increasingly affectionate, it is the way she is holding her, clinging to her really.

"Anything you need Alexis. Ever, I mean it," she mutters against her hair and earning another fierce squeeze in response.


	8. Another Monday

**Another Monday**

They wake early, like he promised and are at the precinct early, meeting Esposito and Ryan to recanvas the neighbours with them, before they all leave for work, all returning to their ignorance. They had returned and compared notes, filling out the board with a few extra details, nothing of significance through. Nothing providing them with a solid avenue of investigation.

Until Castle makes a wisecrack, his attempt to lighten the mood for the detectives who are beginning to clutch at straws, re-examining everything again, rereading every note they have compiled for what had to have been the fifth time in the short morning.

As soon as he finishes speaking, he sees it in her eyes. There is a glimmer of something he isn't quite sure how to describe, what to call it. It looks like thanks, but it also looks like mischief and determination. Whatever it should be termed, it looks like she's figured something out, some new path to take them all down, lead them along the way.

Except she doesn't. Not initially. All she does is bark orders at the boys, instructing them to pull all kinds of information on everyone in the street.

Even when he asks, looks over her shoulder, watching her as she works, still not seeing what she does – not quite catching onto what he suggested to her.

But after an hour of her digging, his patient waiting, and Esposito and Ryan pulling all kinds of information for her, they finally print the warrants, clipping them into a folder to present them to the judge. He hasn't asked how she worked it out, what made it click. He had just made a joke about the husband having a mysterious affair with a woman down the road, the woman down the road herself having a jealous husband. But there are warrants for several homes, he thinks they have untangled a more interesting facet of suburbia than even he had ever imagined possible outside a soap opera, let alone at a crime scene.

But there was no evidence of some intermingled loveweb stringing together the families of the neighbourhood, but apparently she had seen it in some offhand comment he had missed, or maybe it was from the boys interviews and not their own. But she is sure, he can tell she is, and he trusts her, so he is sure too. He knows she will get the confession, find justice for their victims, apprehending those responsible.

* * *

><p>Once they've charged their ring leader and his accomplices, after a few hours staking the place out and then a hostage negotiation with each of the offenders as they tried desperately to save themselves, lucky there had been no injury more serious than a grazed knee as a wife dropped to the ground, hysterical. Beckett had tried to usher him out the door, send him home to Alexis and she would follow later, he knew better. He stayed with her, waiting until she had finished, until it was almost dinner, until the bullpen was only a few detectives shy of empty.<p>

Paperwork completed, reports filed and she is light again. Her face radiating a contentedness he is beginning to see more often, attributed as much, he is assuming, to Alexis' presence in her life as much as it accountable to him. Her small frame adorned with jeans and a loose fitting sweater he hasn't seen since the night she came to dinner after the bank robbery where he and his mother were held hostage. She is light and engaging with both of them, her eyes intent on Alexis, though darting to meet his own on occasion.

She isn't hovering over his daughter to clutch at her innocence, to join her for a moment in a world where death and senseless murder are limited to books and television, and stories of their day. She is hovering over his daughter because the girl is explaining to them, in great detail and at length, always the storyteller just like her father, embellishing and placing emphasis in exactly the right spots, drawing them both in as she recounts how she gave her speech. She is describing the faces of her teacher and classmates, most uninterested (who can blame them? Back to back speeches were always deathly boring when he went to school), but those who were had their interested sparked, had engaged with her and given her the silent encouragement to continue her delivery in such a way that it had her still beaming with pride several hours later.

She said she didn't know the grade, but felt good about it.

"I'm sure you did great, pumpkin," he assures her as he steps around the island to embrace her, but he is beaten to it by his partner. The woman was after all much closer to his daughter, having been immediately tugged through the loft to the kitchen island at first opportunity, her arm entwined with Alexis' as the girl spoke, wove her story for them both.

He fingers twitch at his sides, envious. He narrows his eyes at her. He knows she can tell he isn't being serious, that he is exaggerating his jealous. He still isn't used to having to share her, share either of them actually. But if he has to share either of them, he will oblige if it is with the other, he thinks he can let that happen more, hopes he can.

Kate is watching him, over his daughter's head, smile on her face. He watches as she leans down, whispering words to Alexis that he can't hear. Whatever they were they have his daughter is looking back, turning slightly in his partner's arms to look at him. Her head is still pressed to Kate's chest, still enclosed in her arms, but Alexis now only has one arm around her, reaching out to him with the other, beckoning him over.

He pretends to consider, take a moment before he steps over to them, desperate to crush both of them to his chest, sandwich himself between them. When he does slide his arms around them, one behind each of their backs, like he is holding them together, he drops a kiss to his daughter's cheek. "I'm proud of you kiddo," he says softly. He realises he sounds like his mother, suppresses the thought to watch her, wait for her response.

She mumbles a thanks, screwing up her nose in the process, still modest even with all her pride.

He brushes his fingers over his partner's back, skimming the small. He looks up from his daughter just in time to catch her watching them, though where else would her eyes be in this moment? He presses a kiss to her cheek too, skims his nose beneath her eye as she flutters it closed.

He doesn't embrace them for long, if he lets himself. He is afraid he will hold them for much longer than a lingering minute. He will actually never let them go. Especially when he knows they are both here safe, before him and if they go elsewhere he may not get another moment. But he can't think that way, can't live that way. So he lets them go, extremely reluctant.

* * *

><p>Kate isn't sure why she is clutching Alexis so close. She is assuming it is the pride that she delivered her speech as well as Kate knew she would. Maybe it also has something to do with the way the girl is clutching her too, each clinging for a little extra closeness. Maybe it has something to do with her nose being pressed against the braid she had been asked to fix this morning, right before they left for the precinct. It had been a very quiet question, an 'if you're too busy it's okay' question. She had been, they'd been late, but Alexis had just woken up to ready herself for school and Kate knew that with this case Castle would most likely be home late, skipping the evening with his daughter to help her study the board for an extra hour before ushering her out the door and forcing her to sleep.<p>

It had been a grounding moment fixing her hair. It had lingered in the back of her mind as she repeatedly studied the board, reread the interview notes and put the pieces together. Her fingers had been twitching in her pockets at the memory, muscles itching to repeat the process. That moment had kept her calm while she starred down each of these men as they apprehended them, each desperate attempt for them to save themselves posing more dangerous than the last.

She gives a faint squeeze before she slips her arms from around the girl as her partner starts rummaging in a drawer somewhere beside them.

"What do you girls want to eat?" he asks, distracted, casually tossing the question over his shoulder.

When Alexis looks to Kate, questioning, she shrugs in reply to the wordless question. She isn't fussed, whatever they would like she's more than happy with. She is starving, hasn't eaten properly since this morning.

"Pizza?" Alexis suggests, flicking her gaze between them, her father is still digging. "Or Thai?" she hedges, making another suggestion after receiving no proper response.

"Thai," Castle agrees, finally grabbing a menu from the drawer, turning around to find them leaning back against the counter. "Some of us had pizza for lunch," he says pointedly to his partner. He had ordered for the whole team, but she had only taken three bites (he had been watching, counting) and become distracted again by a file handed to her by a uniform.

When she rolls her eyes, but makes no protest he knows she understands his concern, so he doesn't press further.

"Entrées ladies?" he questions, unfolding the men and laying it out on the counter, forcing their attention onto him.

They make their selections quickly, three dishes that everyone is content with and a mixed entrée, each certain to find something to their liking. He grabs the phone dialling as he returns to where they had been, to find them both gone from their spot. He tells the woman on the other end of the line to deliver as his eyes catch them just as the slip out of sight, walking away from him together. He gives his address, a phone number, then hangs up, not bothering to check if she got it down right. He may come to regret that later, but he hasn't had a problem with this particular place before. He isn't content to let his daughter and his partner out of his sight, not tonight. They will both murder him with mockery if either of them realises it, but if they do it will be worth it, he will relish it.

When he drops the phone to the counter and follows, he finds Alexis has already slipped on a movie, curled up on the couch beside his partner, remote poised in her hand trying to skip production messages that won't oblige and ready to hit play at the first chance. Kate has curled a blanket under their feet as the hang on the edge of the cushion, pulled the blanket up over her chest, apparently cold. He had told her to put a thicker top on and socks on her feet as they'd hurriedly changed, after Alexis' incessant greetings. But she hadn't listened, always defiant. His daughter only has the blanket over her lap, her attention focused on the TV as she aims and presses the button.

Kate pats the couch beside her, urging him to sit beside her, to join them. When she threads her hands around his forearm, tugging him flush against her side, he kisses her softly then lets her press her cheek against the corner of his shoulder, slip her feet under his thigh. She's lucky his thick sweatpants mean her cold skin doesn't touch his own contentedly warm skin.

"Zombies?" he questions his daughter as the production company logos cease and the well worn movie begins on the screen.

She raises a little so she can peak over the top of Kate's head, meeting his gaze, giving him a wicked smile. "Of course,"

He doesn't miss that his partner unwinds one of her arms from around his and reaches beneath the blanket, seeking out his daughter. She is apparently content to abuse them both for their warmth and forethought of dressing warmly. Maybe she deliberately did it, anything is possible.

Just as they settle in, turn their attention to the movie, a woman's scream pierces the silence, radiating from the TV completely stereo and empty but startling them all nonetheless. He realises his daughter has edged closer to Kate, curled up into her side, and that his arm is now snaked around Kate as he pulled her towards him, shutting down the urge to use her as a shield with instant defiance by selfishly pulling her towards him, suddenly finding the hairs atop her head extremely fascinating.

He kisses her head, grazes his fingers across her back, then reaches over to poke his daughter, grabbing her attention from the exaggerated horror playing out before them. "I saw you jump," he teases, giving her a wicked smile.

"I wasn't paying attention, it was the noise that startled me not the attack," she assures him, always defiant. "But I saw _you_ jump. Not willing to use Kate as a shield?"

His partner quips a brow in his direction, a silent challenge or an expectation of a witty retort to Alexis' taunt.

"I would never do such a thing. Even if it was terrifying me, you would then lose your protection and have to suffer beneath the blanket, quivering on your lonesome," he teases, smirks at her, a hint of smug in that smile.

"You have never cared about my protection in the past. I recall a time-"

Kate shushes them, a hand hovering over each of their laps and her eyes remain transfixed on the screen, intent on the movie.

He narrows his eyes at his daughter for quick moment, while he slides his arm around his partner, tugging her closer, suggesting he will carry out his threat. He turns his attention to her, still almost completely focused on the movie. Her focus only shared as she presses a hand to his chest, attempting to prevent him crushing her against him. He kisses her softly anyway and lets her withdraw from him, her contact with his side almost completely lost.

Then he realises why, Kate's arm is now around his daughter, tugging the girl into her side and leaning back against the couch, her back almost completely to him. His daughter is sly, plays hardball, completely ruthless. Especially, when it comes to tormenting her own father. He has taught her well he smiles at the backs of their heads.

He slips his arm around Kate, tugging her backwards and settling himself deep into the corner of the couch. He silently directs Kate to ease off the back of the couch and lean against his chest. When Alexis turns at the movement, her head not raised in protest, just awareness of the disruption to their movie, but doesn't say anything, simply leaning forward so Kate can shift back, then following suit, resuming her position. He rests his closed fist on Alexis' forearm, the girl now basically laying across his partner's lap. He has his other hand at his partner's neck, gently running his fingers along her shoulder, up her neck and into her hair before retracing the path.

He could stay here all night.

He fills with dread at the thought of the food arriving now. He will have to move them both, then again after they've eaten to shift them back into this position.

The next time a terrified shriek fills the room his body doesn't rise like theirs do, he has too much weight atop him for the impulse passing along his nerves to activate his muscles to such an extent, the simultaneous contraction not even enough to lift him off the couch, let alone the others.

"Looks like I've got two shields now," he says softly, leaning forward so they can both hear him.

He receives a blind swat from his partner for restarting the argument but his daughter says nothing, just gives a soft smile. He thinks she understands too much just how much it means to him to have them both here, both curled up on the couch with him.


	9. Second Tuesday

**Hooky Tuesday**

He wakes to the warmth of the light, the warmth of his bed, the warmth of her body. The wet feeling on his neck assures him she is there, her hot breath tickles against his skin, her feet twitching against his calves as she holds her body up, digging her toes into the mattress to access the deepest furrows of his skin, the hollows of his neck, her chest is hovering over him, he can feel it.

He lifts both hands, blindly, eyes closed against the light, enjoying the sense of waking up to find himself surrounded by her, completely enveloped, senses assaulted. One finds her hip, sliding across the soft skin, grazing the skin of her stomach as he savours the moment. The other hand clutching her ribs, his fingers coming to the middle of her back, his thumb hooked around pressing into a gap between her ribs. He hums, opening his eyes so he can see her, shifting his head so he can just see the corner of her eye, waiting for her to stop him, testing her

But she doesn't. She simply flicks her eyes to the corner, peaking at him, studying him as he watches her, smiling against his skin.

He slides his hands along her skin, searching and exploring the curves he already knows, gliding his fingertips over her skin. He watches her suck a little harder on his skin then soothe it with her tongue, all the while breathing haggardly against the wet skin of his shoulder. He slides both hands up now back, his palms now flat against her shoulder blades, urging her closer to him, to rest her weight against him.

She resists at first, giving a soft noise of disapproval, so he pushes a little harder, pressing his palms against her back as he slides his arms around her, giving her very little choice but to allow him the closeness.

When she does allow it, her body stretched along the length of his, weight pressing him further down into the mattress, his hands now free to roam, soon slipping beneath her shirt to slide along her skin as she continues her ventures around his skin, nipping on his clavicle, sucking on his neck, licking his ear.

Then he can't take it anymore.

He crushes her against his chest with one arm, using the other to propel them both over, flip her so she is beneath him, his turn to greet her this bright morning.

When she gives a sigh as he rests her against the pillow, making another content noise as he presses his weight against her legs, her lips never once leaving his skin, so he nudges her face with his nose, stealing her attention, shifting her focus. He kisses her hot, wet and open mouthed, his hands near her armpits, her arms clutching his tensed forearms as he holds himself off her chest (she does after all have to breathe). She tastes like coffee, makes him crave his own morning cup.

He kisses a path along her cheek finding her jawline then following it to her ear. "Hey," he breathes against her skin then proceeds to trail a path back to her mouth.

After he kisses her again, hot and deep as she slides her hands up his arms to tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. Surely with this much light in the room they do not have enough time to continue this, let alone the fact Alexis is probably up pottering around the kitchen fixing herself breakfast and making herself some lunch. But maybe if they're quick…

He pulls back, turns to look at the clock over his shoulder. She seizes her opportunity, nipping and sucking on his neck once again, soothing with her tongue, trailing his skin with her lips as she exhales hotly against the damp skin. He can't think. Damn her skilled tongue.

But if what he read is true, they should be at the precinct. Alexis will have left for school almost an hour ago.

He whips back to look at her. "Aren't we-" He stops midsentence. She is aware they would be late. She tastes like coffee. She let him sleep in, left him in bed and went and helped herself to breakfast. Who is this woman and what has she done with Kate Beckett?

"Kate," he says softly, sliding his neck from her mouth, hears her mouth pop in response. He kisses her puckered lips, red from the heat of his skin, damp from her own saliva. "Are you playing hooky detective?" he asks teasingly, when he pulls back.

She smirks at him, scoffing softly and kissing him again, her tongue curiously probing, exploring his mouth. "You wish," she quips as soon as she withdraws.

He stays silent, waits for her to continue, sliding his arms beneath her as he does, pressing a little more weight against her but supporting the brunt of it with his elbows, now pressed deep into his mattress.

"Gates told us if she saw any of us before lunch we would be on desk duty for a week. She said yesterday was too brutal, to sleep in and spend some time…" she tappers off, her voice soft as she hesitates to continue.

"Spend some time…" he mimics her half finished statement. "What Gates is encouraging you to do the washing? Change your sheets? Buy some groceries?" he teases. He can tell she needs a little of his joking to find a way to say it. He suspects he knows the message.

"With our families," she breathes, tugging on his neck, kissing him so he doesn't have a chance to respond, make some smartarse comment or take it too seriously.

"Hmm," he hums against her mouth, swallowing when she slips her tongue back into her mouth, twisting urging him to follow, he obliges. "I think I can help with that," he mumbles as he breaks the kiss, brushing his lips over her jaw bone, nipping the tendons of her neck, soothing with his tongue and gently sucking the soft skin.

Now it is her humming, except hers is approval. Definitely approval, evident by the fact she's wrapped her legs around his calves, hooking her ankles around his, pulling him closer. He needs no further invitation.

* * *

><p>She unlocks the front door, careful to juggle the books in her arms, carefully balancing them on her knee so she can turn the knob and kick the door open. Maybe she borrowed too many, the librarian had looked at her curiously, but something in these could be useful, so she had bit her tongue and fought the urge to defend herself. She didn't need to defend herself. She dumps the precarious pile onto the end table by the door, closing the door, taking her keys from her pocket before removing her coat and shoes. She listens to the rattle of the zippers on her bag as it hits the floor, the dull thud of her shoes as they hit the floor, reverberating through the silent apartment, she must be home along for now, great, it gives her the opportunity to spread out on the dining room table and start the research for this essay.<p>

She slings her bag back over her shoulder again, pulling the books across the table into her arms, swinging her body around with the same momentum, heading towards the table to dump her stuff. Except, when she turns, she finds, she isn't alone in the apartment. Her dad and his girlfriend are sprawled across the couch – well, her dad is sprawled, his girlfriend is wedged against the back of the couch, completely absorbed in her book.

Alexis coughs, gently altering the detective to her presence. How the woman hadn't heard her keys in the door has Alexis stumped, she is after all normally so in tune with her surroundings.

She sees Kate startle slightly, turn her gaze immediately to her, snapped back to reality. "Hey," Kate says softly, obviously trying not to rouse her father. Though they both know once he is out, he isn't easily woken, so maybe it has more to do with embarrassment.

"Why aren't you at work?" Alexis is a little astounded, absorbing their casual attire. Of course she has seen her dressed like this on numerous occasions, however this time it is different. It is the earliest she has seen her dad home for a long time, let alone his girlfriend, a ruthless workaholic at the best of times.

She watches as Kate regards her, notices she has wordlessly slipped a bookmark between the pages of her book, closing the cover and setting it against her dad's chest. She watches the thoughts roll over in the detective's mind, no doubt deciding how best to describe it to the girl.

"Gates ordered us all not to come in. She said yesterday was," Kate pauses, considering how to explain it to Alexis, "too intense." She had decided to explain it to Alexis how she would have wanted it described to her at that age, only half the truth, avoiding the details so the girls mind can remain at ease about their day-to-day activities. How would she explain she skipped out on work to spend the day curled up with her dad?

Alexis nods slowly, accepting the sparse details, not needing any further explanation.

"How was your day?" she asks softly, sliding the book across his chest, letting it drop to the floor with a dull thud. Alexis watches as she beginning to slide herself from his arms, untangle their legs so she doesn't get caught up as she stands.

"Pretty good, a little slow though," she says smiling as Alexis' dad stirs beside her, tries to move his legs, reaching out to look for her.

Kate rolls her eyes at him, then looks to Alexis as she bats his hand away and quickly slips from next to him. "That's good," she says crossing the room, headed toward Alexis, taking the books from her with a smile. "New project?" she asks, lifting the books in a question.

Alexis scoffs her displeasure at the thought of the impending assignment as she leads the way to the dining table, dumping her bag on a chair, pulling out everything she needs, setting it on the table. "I'll be back," she chirps to Kate as she spins and heads off upstairs with her almost-empty bag.

"Want something to eat?" Kate offers, calling to her as Alexis gets to the stairs, still unstacking that precarious pile of book onto the table.

"Yes, please," Alexis' voice carries through the loft, obviously halfway up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Castle can hear giggling as he wakes, shifts on the couch and finds he has significantly more room than when he fell asleep, his partner wedged against his side as he crowded in her on her alone time with her book. He hears it again, the giggling, loud and unbridled. She must be in the kitchen, with his daughter he could tell that high pitched giggle from a mile away. He has known it from the time it first emanated from her lips when she was just a baby who was cooing in his arms, it will remain etched firmly into his mind, unforgettable.<p>

He rolls himself off onto the floor, using the arm to right himself and stand. He lets his blood pressure settle before he attempts to step forward, he can tell they're in the kitchen.

"Hey," he greets them both as he comes up behind his partner, kissing her cheek, relishing the fact she startles slightly at his voice and touch before she relaxes and rests her head against the side of his own, continuing to joke with his daughter, saying something about an essay, some story he hasn't heard before. He must remember to ask, the list of questions to ask her continually growing, he can never know too much. He moves from his partner's side, moving to the far side of the table to his daughter.

"How was your day?" he asks Alexis as he drops into the seat beside her, dropping his arm around the back of her chair.

She gives the same response she gave to Kate earlier. "It was pretty good. A little slow." She shrugs, darting her eyes between them, as Kate smirks at them, something is going on here he has missed, again. "What've you been doing, sleepyhead?" his daughter rewords his question, but mimics his tone, chipper and cheerful.

"Playing hooky," he smirks at his daughter then turning to look at his partner. Just as he meets her gaze just as she rolls her eyes at him, preparing herself for a vehement protest.

"I had permission, Castle," she retorts, defensive.

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. "I know, I know. But you still skipped out on this afternoon," he says, daring her to defend herself, raising a brow in challenge. He knows she has no defence, especially in front of Alexis. He has her backed into a corner, with no other choice than to admit defeat, at least for now. She will no doubt pay him back at a later date, he would be worried if she didn't.

She narrows her eyes at him, then sighing, resigned. "Yeah, I did," she says softly, redirecting her attention to Alexis. Not meeting the eyes of the man who distracted her several times during the day, persuading her to say in bed with him until well after lunch.


	10. Which Wednesday?

**A Different Kind of Hump Day**

When he makes a quip to her in the morning, telling her he's staying in bed. He'll work for a while then call later, see if she's free for lunch, telling her it is after all 'Hump day' and she just smiles, kissing him goodbye before slipping from the bed, headed to work. She calls not even half an hour after he hears her leave the apartment.

She'd quipped to him, her voice echoing through the phone, like she's got it on speaker phone as she says it doesn't look like they'll be so lucky. She gives him the option to stay home and work, he immediately refuses, telling her he'll catch a cab to the scene, meet her there so she didn't have to double back. She informs him she is almost there, three sets of lights and she will be downstairs, he has five minutes, not to bother with coffee, she's got it covered.

They'd studied the scene, canvassed the surrounding apartments, tag-teaming with Esposito and Ryan as they worked their way through the neighbours, scoping out the life of their victim, piecing together what they could from inattentive New York neighbours. Hopefully the boyfriend who was becoming the only common thread to these interviews could shed some light, once of course they tracked him down.

Then just as they had their leads, the right path to take, ready to head back to the precinct and dredge through the victim's life and put it all together, they got another call from dispatch. Another body had dropped, apparently along with several others, stretching resources thin. Esposito and Ryan were being called off to run their own investigation, the Captain assuring Beckett if she needs the help she herself has some time, the implication clear that Castle still isn't considered a serious investigator, but how much time will the Captain actually offer? A significant amount is doubtful, the woman has her own responsibilities, a whole department of detectives to manage. A twinge of anger seeps through Kate, how long he will have to prove himself to this Captain, it has been long enough already she thought they'd gotten somewhere, apparently not. She passed on the information to Castle, saw the wicked grin cross his face, the last time this had happened they had placed a bet. She just shook her head at him, she didn't need to speak, and she knows he will know her meaning. No bets. Not this time.

The lack of skilled hands to make phone calls, people to fetch files from the records room, pull information up on the computer and consult with the tech team means everything is falling on Kate. She doesn't resent Castle for it, but the fact he isn't a cop, that Gates hasn't and can't give him the authority to pull files from records and type warrants out frustrates her. He has been here longer than the Captain herself, with Montgomery the others knew if Castle came down with a note from her it would not be held against them, with Gates it would be like tying the noose around their own neck. The fact he can't even make phone calls, make enquires and check alibis or corroborate witness statements due to his 'consultant' title sounded redundant and false without the support of her Detective's shield and holster placed squarely on her hip. He is limited to reading the information that is continually being dumped on her desk, the pile in front of him forming a definite barrier between them, but at least he can be useful. She just feels like a manager, like she has these ideas about where to look, but is so busy orchestrating the process that she never gets time to help him actually look. She doesn't doubt that he won't miss something, but she would still feel better doing it herself.

Their process is much slower, even though she has uniforms fumbling under her feet, answering her every beck and call, they just aren't the same, they aren't her team. With them she has to take the time to explain exactly what she needs them to find, where to find it and how to do it. She is also having to continually sprout the name of the victim, the date of her death, the approximate time, the specific details that should have become second nature to the team. But she doesn't have a team this time, just her partner, although, at the moment he is proving to be a one-man force. She is too distracted to thank him, she'll do it later, when they're alone, right now she has several tasks she has to attend to, and several fresh faces are approaching her, eager to help.

Castle senses the frustration, it is basically seeping out of her so he couldn't miss it if he tried, so he keeps her coffee mug full in front of her. probably not the best idea in terms of stimulating her already wired body, keeping her on alert and tense won't change her outward attitude, but it does mentally reassure her, focus her and show her he has noticed. That he is here, trying to help, paying attention.

When Castle returns with the cup of coffee just after what should be lunch, he notes she is engaged with a particularly fresh looking uniform who is asks her to explain, for what is apparently the third time, how to get to a particular storage room so he can fetch a piece of information which will likely end up being useless, just like all the other things they've looked at this morning. So he steps in, takes over before she says something in frustration she will regret later. He explains to the young man where the room is, and Kate touches his hand once the young officer has hurried off, lingering as she takes the coffee from him. Castle appreciates the small thanks, and notes that he gets the sense from the uniform that the consultant knows where it is, so he damn well should too. It makes her smile as she gulps down the hot beverage, but she doesn't say anything, just skims over a report.

He takes her lead, picking up a small stack of papers and placing them in front of him, settling forward to read, his weight pressed against the table. His back always protests when he reclines in the rickety chair too long, but he won't complain, not today.

She brushes her knuckles against her forearm while he leans on the desk, arms folded studying her now she's broken his focus. He watches as she sighs, runs a hand over her face, then back through her hair, tangling it between her fingers, forcing past the knots he can see form. A sure sign she is stressed, frustrated with their lack of direction. Then her phone rings, Lanie has an update for them.

* * *

><p>Their day hasn't improved. Hours spent digging, interviewing potential suspects, everyone having an alibi and the right answers to their questions. She's been staring at the board for an hour, tossing theories over her shoulder at him. But when she starts pacing after fifteen minutes of silence, tapping the marker to her chin, an arm wrapped around her waist, hugging herself in an attempt to maintain composure, navigating her way through the empty bullpen, twisting her way past desks and chairs, all abandoned haphazardly in an attempt to get home a little sooner, he realises it is time to shuttle her home. A glance at the clock confirms it, lucky his daughter doesn't mind late dinners. She has assured him on more than one occasion it gives her a chance to settle in and complete most of her school-work before they arrive.<p>

He doesn't give Kate the option today, slipping his jacket on as she paces, marker pressed to her chin. It is only when he touches her shoulder, arms outstretched, extending her jacket to her in silent command that she stops, lets him slip the heavy thing over her shoulders. Wordlessly, she locks the files away in her drawer, turns off her computer and grabs her keys, stuffing them deep into her pocket before she grabs his hand, twisting his fingers through hers as she tugs him toward the elevator. She moves a little quicker once she takes a hesitant glance at the clock, offering him an apologetic smile at the late hour.

When he ushers her though the door, taking her coat and gesturing she kick off her boots, he kisses her gently tells her to shower and he'll cook them dinner. He had called ahead, asked Alexis to start the process, take the lasagne from the fridge and preheat the oven, to make it easier on all of them. Lucky he'd been preparing to cook it anyway, otherwise it would be frozen solid. If they hadn't been eating nine out of ten meals as take-out recently he probably would have just picked something up, but this is just as simple, just as quick and makes him feel like he isn't neglecting to take care of them.

Alexis and her dad work silently side-by-side cutting vegetables and grating some cheese until she breaks the silence. "What are you guys working on that held you so late? Some dirt-bag who wouldn't crack so Kate made him sit on it and fester before she went in and tore him a new one?" she asks playfully, adding the teasing tone to ease her father's worry. She is sure Kate would do something like that and has no doubt it will have occurred on more than one occasion in the past. One day she might ask to come and see for herself, sure she's read the books, read how her father describes it. but that is his perspective, always clouded by his feelings. Alexis could probably learn a thing or two on how to handle men by watching an interrogation, she has certainly watched Kate manipulate her dad on several occasions, make him admit something, trapping him in lies.

"Just a woman found murdered, no one can offer us anything much. She doesn't seem to have had many friends, her boyfriend is overseas backpacking, virtually unreachable, her family live across the country so we had to call to break the news. It is just a slow case, but we'll catch the guy. Someone had to see something, right?" He brushes over the details, the vague idea of things.

The questions she proceeds to ask are as intent and insightful as they usually are. He isn't sure where she learnt to think the way she does, especially about murder. Maybe she has been reading his own books from too young an age.

Her questions and his answers sadly do not spark something in him, do not trigger a connection between two seemingly non-crucial pieces of evidence. It would be much simpler if it had. Now he has to ensure his partner sleeps, switches off and relaxes for a few hours, giving her brain and body a break. He knows she would write the murder board across the walls of his loft if he were to let her, especially seeing as they have spent so long digging and found so little of use.

Alexis' phone rings, and he waves her away, content to finish the last of the salad and consider the case for a few minutes before Kate returns and needs distracting. Before she goes he suggests softly for her to go easy on Kate tonight, give her some space if she wants it.

Alexis nods, gives him half a smile before dashing off to answer her phone.

He finishes the salad within a minute of her departure, rinses the chopping board and the knife and slots them into the dishwasher before turning his attention to the oven. He watches as the cheese bubbles on the edges of the dish, not long to go now. He's thankful, his stomach is flipping, demanding to be filled, so he leans over the island, silencing the offending organ with the pressure, resting his head on his fist, his elbows on the counter as he considers the bubbles.

Two small hands touch his hips, sliding up around his waist before meeting over his ribs, her weight pressed against his legs and his back, her nose skitting over the material between his shoulder blades, a shiver sliding down his spine, completely involuntary, as the material grazes his skin with the faintest touch. He gives her a minute to press against him before he slides his arms along her forearms, loosening her grip so he can turn in her arms.

When he spins, he brings her forward so her knees are wedged between his own as he reclines against the counter, their height almost even due to his angled hips so he can kiss her, slide his arms around her and enjoy the feeling of her pressed against his chest. Hair still damp from the shower, the scent of the shampoo filling the room, assaulting his sense just like her still warm body, the heat of her shower still radiating from her skin. A shower does her wonders, not that she was even remotely grimy, filthy or in any way dirty before it, but it has given her a new shine, a fresh glow, a new mindset. That or maybe she has had a realisation about the case, he can only hope, they need someone to go. Though that would mean forgoing the evening with his daughter to head back to the precinct to chase it down, persue this fresh line of inquiry, their only current –

"Watching it won't make it cook faster?" she says softly, a soft chuckle stemming from the back of her throat as she refers to his previous position perched against the counter his focus solely on the contents of the oven, or so it seemed.

He hums agreement. "If only it did," he says, throwing a longing gaze at the closed oven, the heat turned up the to uppermost setting the recipe recommended, in an attempt to speed the process, although now he has to keep watch, ensure it doesn't burn.

She kisses the side of his face, while he's not expecting, gets a squeeze against her hips in response as he draws her closer, holding her against him while he studied the browning of the cheese at the edges, not quite ready. But so close it is too much to watch.

"You're very happy this evening," he teases softly, but he is serious as he turns back to meet her eyes watching her smile and the gleam in her eyes. It is as though she walked through the door, stripped off the day along with her clothes, scrubbed herself clean in the shower and then found a whole new outlook when she redressed. It had been what he had hoped for, but it isn't always what happens, especially after a day like today. It is amazing how she does it, completely compartmentalises and leaves work at work. He knows it is on the back of her mind, when there is nothing to do or when they watch a movie it often shifts to the forefront, clouding her vision. But she doesn't let on like she used to, she doesn't often stop him to discuss it. At least until they are in the confines of his bedroom, away from Alexis, that she brings it up. Although even that has dwindled lately, their pillow talk has changed too. Everything has changed since this began, except work, which has remained untouched.

He sees her contemplate it, like she isn't even aware of this change in herself. He sees the moment she realises she probably hasn't thought of the case since they've been home, until he's bringing it up now. "I guess so," she says softly, shrugging. She kisses him again, stealing his attention again in a way only she can. When she pulls back she rests her cheek on his shoulder for a minute.

"Thank you," she mutters after a moment, when he's checking the oven again.

He flicks his head back to her, chin brushing her scalp as he redirects at the last second, preventing a head butt and resting it atop her head. "You do not have to thank me," he mutters. "I'm your partner it is my job to look out for you," he assures. "Even if today that was limited to preventing you terrorizing the uniforms."

She shudders against his chest, giving what he can only assume is an almost silent chuckle in response, because her chest is shifting too and she isn't letting him go, she's pulling herself tighter against him.

The shudders stop. "I know and I'm sorry. But thank you. I forget sometimes how much I rely on the guys, how they know what I'm thinking before I can even say it sometimes." She doesn't say it, he doesn't need her to. They both know how he had assumed the role of sifting through the reports, giving her what was important while she did her own share of the work. He isn't going to point out he does this most cases, she already knows that. But this time acknowledging him with a small thanks, he knows, is her way of saying she wouldn't have been able to do it without him.

He kisses her softly and doesn't say a word, just hopes she can see it on his face, his understanding.

Before either of them can say anything else they both hear Alexis coming downstairs. Obviously her phone call has wrapped up or she feels dinner should be ready.

"Hey," she greets his partner, still wrapped in his arms, except now moving away from him, headed to his daughter. "Almost done?" she asks them both, probably unsure who is even watching the food.

"Your dad is just about it get it out of the oven," she says gently, starting with her eyes fixed on Alexis answering the question, but the final portion of the sentence an instruction. Apparently she has been paying as much attention to their food as he has, if not more, always attentive and alert.

He's quiet through dinner, just watching as they smile and laugh as Alexis explains her day, tells them her friends keep trying to get her to go to some house party tomorrow. That snaps him back.

"You should go, have some fun. I'll come and get you about-" he stops short.

The curious look his partner is giving him as she glances between his horrified daughter and himself, makes him realise. "Okay then," he hedges, hesitant. "You're not allowed to go out on a school night?" he offers, almost hopeful. He knows she takes her self parenting serious, but it is a Thursday night and he had been about to suggest he would pick her up at ten. No later than if she had gone to a movie.

Kate watches the exchange, smirking again as Alexis gives a sigh of feigned resignation. "Thanks dad, though now I have to tell Paige."

He chuckles, he has overheard many of those conversations. He should worry that she doesn't rebel against him, press him for the chance to go out with her friends and do crazy things, create herself some inappropriate stories. But he's glad she is her own person, she sure isn't like him or her mother, or even his mother. He has given up wondering where her responsibility comes from.

"Tell her you need to get that essay done, that we have plans for the weekend," Kate offers, before continuing on with her dinner taking another mouthful.

Alexis looks thoughtful, considering. "You know that isn't such a bad idea. She'll still tell me to do it on Monday night, but she knows I'm not someone who does everything last minute." She smiles at Kate, her fork touched to her lips. "Thanks, it might actually work."

He watches them exchange another look, each unable to contain soft smiles before busying themselves with their dinner. He can't help but smile himself before moving to finish his own plate. Thankful to his partner and his daughter, he isn't exactly sure why. It has as much to do with them being there with him as it does involve anything they've done recently, except be themselves.


	11. Repeated Thursday

**Practical Thursday**

Ryan and Esposito have caught their guy and finished the paper work, so have rejoined their efforts to solve their case. She wishes this one had been a 'Jack shot Jill over Bill', it would make her world such a simpler place.

Instead they've brought three seemingly perfect suspects into that interrogation room and Castle has watched as she has had at them, throwing everything their way, watching her tense and determined, not backing down, establishing their connection to the victim then ruthlessly bringing it around to their whereabouts at the time of death. Then he had watched the shift in her eyes as each one had alibied out, each with a more solid alibi than the last.

By early afternoon, Esposito and Ryan have gone out to pick up a fourth potential and he can see the certainty is not entirely there in her eyes. When she leans over her desk, navigating the piles of paper, moving in close, putting a hand up to place a barrier between Gates' office and their conversation, he isn't even sure the Captain is in there, but she is being guarded, being cautious about it, so it must mean it is personal. So he leans forward, fist under his chin giving her his full attention. Not that he ever gives her anything less.

"I'm taking Alexis out tonight," she tells him. She isn't asking permission, she doesn't have to. Why exactly she wants to take his daughter out is puzzling, but he doesn't press the issue. She'll tell him in her own time.

"Text her, see if she's still free," he offers. He doesn't doubt her daughter won't be, especially after her insistent refusal to go to the party with her friends. He knows the same rules should apply to an evening with his partner, but he has a feeling they won't. He wonders if Kate considers there is a possibility the girl will say no. He doubts it, he is sure even if Alexis refuses Kate will insist.

She quickly does as he suggests, as if she hadn't considering giving the girl advanced warning. She is sliding her phone from her pocket, typing a quick message and sending it off while he watches. He notices the long exhale and the tight, closed-mouthed smile she gives. The first smile he has seen since they arrived this morning. She didn't laugh once at the jokes of Esposito and Ryan, their attempts to keep the case light and not weighing on them had kept her tight lipped, inexpressive. Once she had even glared over at them, telling them they had work to do. That's when Castle had finally forfeited his own attempts at joking with her. He had wisely stayed away from the case, but the reaction to his own jokes had been ignorance. It was as though she didn't even hear the non-relevant, non-case related words flowing from his mouth. Maybe she didn't. He decidedly kept busy, tossing ideas to her as they popped into his mind. He knew they were thin theories, thinner than normal, thinner than some of his CIA theories, even thinner than some of his alien theories, but they were all they had. The only straws they could clutch. This case was chilling fast and it was becoming a mad fumble to take it out of the freezer.

He watches Kate gaze at the phone resting on her desk every few seconds, as if she may miss the loud shrill it emits each time she receives a message. "She's in class," he assures her, then watches her nod and slip the phone back into her pocket. He gives her a smile, trying to be encouraging. "Let's get back to work." He rubs his hands together, trying to display more enthusiasm than he feels, more than he knows she feels at this moment.

* * *

><p>The idea had been a fleeting thought. But she knew she needed something to look forward to tonight, now sure that they were not going to catch a break in this one as lunch became a distant shadow on the landscape behind them, on this monotonous case, like on a deserted freeway, she was just looking for the exit.<p>

The more the devilled into this case, into this victim, the more it became clear that she was not as she seemed. The problem was finding evidence to support it. There was nothing. Her involvement in this twisted little charade she had played out and called a life was just a cover, these guys were professionals, whatever and whoever they were she hadn't quite worked out. The only thing real about her was her name. Each hour it became more apparent that they weren't going to solve this case, not by their usual methods at least. This fourth suspect was a moulded fit, at best. There was little doubt in her mind he wasn't their guy, but Ryan and Espo had led them to him and with the amount they had to go on at the moment, this was as promising as it got.

So she prepared her questions, prepared how she was going to lay into this one, pull apart his story. Hopefully he didn't have one, maybe they'd get lucky and he would confess. Doubtful, but here's hoping.

But she needs something to look forward to. Something beyond the off-chance of a confession, something solid and something set in stone, something that would ground her again, reset her back into reality, not just this case. Sure going home with Richard Castle was more than just a small perk, but she needed someone to distract her, someone unaware of the way this case was running her down, running her haggard. Castle had watched her try to work, and she had watched it have the same effect on him, not that he would ever admit it. So she needed someone outside of this immediate family to take her mind off it. Alexis was the perfect choice, plus it gave her an opportunity to spend some time with the girl without her dad, an opportunity to take her out and do something together, something meaningful. If it meant walking out the door at four to get them done, she would be doing it.

This case was sucking the life from her whole team, draining their motivation, squashing their confidence. They had to solve it soon or they would be closing the file but leaving it wide open. But to solve it she had to be in the right mindset and so did her team, so she knew they wouldn't mind the early leave pass. There is only so much they can theorise before it becomes forced and weak, even Castle has lost the ability to spin this story.

* * *

><p>Her partner was no less than shocked when she emerged from the interrogation room, their fourth suspect just disappearing in front of her eyes, all hope of a closed case gone for the day along with his, and announced that she was done for the day.<p>

"It's only half past four," he stammers, checking his watch, his phone and the clock on the wall, just to be certain.

"We all need to get out of here, start again in the morning. Tonight we need to clear our heads and start from the beginning tomorrow."

He can only open and close his mouth, flabbergasted, no words rolling off his tongue, no sounds emitting from his lips.

It causes her to smile at him as she slips on her coat, sliding her hands around her neck to pull her hair from under the heavy coat as he watches, gobsmacked.

"Want me to drop you at the loft when I pick up Alexis or are you just going to stand there staring all night?" she questions, watches as her voice jolts him into awareness, watches the smile play across his lips at the prospect of her evening with his daughter, his evening alone surely to be spent lost in the world of their literary counterparts.

"Sure." He can't stop smiling at her.

She just rolls her eyes and heads toward the elevators. Her computer and paperwork already packed away while she waited for her suspect to stew in interrogation for an hour, like she knew she wasn't going to get anything from him. Every avenue had been a dead end with this case, they needed a fresh perspective, a new outlook. Hopefully they'd find it tomorrow and nail down their killer, find something that made it undoubtable he was guilty, give them a confession and they could wrap it up before the weekend. She can only hope.

His hand on her back shouldn't surprise her, but it does, she'd been too deep in her own thoughts, her resolutions that tomorrow would be different to notice that the elevator doors were open before her. At least until he was ushering her inside.

"What've you got planned for Alexis this evening?" he quips softly, stepping in close now they are alone within the confines of the elevator, still careful not to be overly affectionate, like she knows he wants to be, like she wants him to be. There are after all several cameras fixed on them in this moment, but the tech guy watching won't care she is being nuzzled by her partner, his nose in her hair as he waits for her response. It is more than likely he is playing a computer game or dirnking coffee, his heels kicked up on the desk as he stares at the ceiling, or maybe he isn't even in the room, but she still won't be putting on a show, not even if there is no audience.

Then she realises, she hasn't told him any of her plans with Alexis. She'd told the girl she is taking her shopping, but that's only half the truth. Sure they will be browsing the shops, perusing the racks, but they won't be buying anything. That's not how this works, this isn't what she does on a day like today, she doesn't blow her bank balance when she gets stressed. She does the opposite, she guards it, conserves it. She wonders what his daughter will think of the idea when she fills her in properly, maybe she'll think she's crazy, but she is sure the girl will play along, enjoy the idea.

"Kate?" he questions, shifting so he can look at her face and force her to look at him with a thumb on her chin.

She realises she hasn't answered him.

"Sorry," she mumbles. How does she explain this without sounding like a crazy person? Maybe she will give him the half truth she gave Alexis. "Shopping, maybe dinner, we'll see how long it takes," she explains softly. Not a complete lie, there will be shops and dinner. The timeline is always dependent on how long the new clothes, fancy shoes and knick knacks abound take to shift her out of her own world into someone else's. How long it takes before she tries on enough items of clothing, pulls on enough shoes, examines herself in the mirror deciding who she looks like, which part of the world this obscure item would place her.

"Sounds fun," he says softly, kissing her cheek before stepping away.

She smiles, takes his hand. "It will be," she assures him, squeezing his fingers lightly. She doesn't have to assure herself.

* * *

><p>They're laughing as they arrive back at the apartment, Kate unlocking the door as Alexis pulls off her hat and loosening her scarf, balancing the tray Kate brought on the way back, holding it in one hand, one for each of them. Alexis had pointed out if her dad didn't receive one as well he would pout for a week. Kate had hesitated, as if considering whether to make him suffer before she doubled back and placed another order, adding his cup to their list. The small bag wedged beneath the coffees would also appeal to him, neither had doubted that when considering their only purchase.<p>

The women exchange curious looks as they enter the apartment, finding him nowhere in sight but the sounds of his presence are unmistakeable. The vacuum cleaner is humming somewhere upstairs, echoing through the loft. They can only assume he is the one driving the offending machine. Alexis shrugs off Kate's curious look. "He gets domestic when he's blocked," she smiles, heading off through the apartment, her hand clasped firmly around Kate's wrist urging her to follow.

When they get half way up the stairs Alexis puts a finger over her lips, urging the detective to remain silent and motioning her to stay back while she heads further up, hesitantly examining the hallway, checking to see exactly which room the offending noise is coming from. It reminds Kate oddly of the reconnaissance they undertake at work, in a way she supposes it is. Alexis is scoping out her father just as they would a suspect. When Kate steps forward, following as Alexis motions her up off the steps and into the hall, the coast apparently clear, she realises the cord leads to Alexis' bedroom. She wonders why the girl doesn't vacuum her own room, why he doesn't have a housekeeper. She had never thought to ask, she'd always taken for granted that the house was in immaculate condition whenever she was here, assumed the housekeeper slipped in while they were at work then slipped back out before they even got home. Though she had noticed a small decline in the appearance of the loft this past week, but she hadn't thought anything of it. The reason now clear, apparently her presence had lead to his abandonment of the chores, instead his attention focused solely on spending time with them.

Alexis has her back to the wall, having crossed silently to the far side of her half open bedroom door, now motioning for Kate to move across the carpet and peek through the door herself. The way Alexis is stifling her laughter with a fist to her mouth intrigues the older woman. Curiously she creeps forward, not entirely sure what to expect. But what she finds is not what she had been assuming she would find and she cannot help the giggle which escapes, the laughter which continues to bubble in her chest at the sight of her partner.

She looks back to Alexis. "He does this all the time?" she asks, not completely quiet the earphones jammed into her partner's ears will surely suppress their conversation if it covers the noise of the vacuum cleaner.

"Every time," Alexis responds through her giggles. "Come on," she urges as she takes Kate's hand tugging her into her room to join her father. She touches his shoulder as she approaches him.

Kate watches him jump and spin around on the spot, speak a little too loud as he greets them. "Hey, you girls have fun?"

They both nod and he doesn't stop his movements, darting his eyes between them. It only takes a second before Alexis joins him, wiggling her hips, twisting on the balls of her feet and swinging her arms a little to a beat she can't even hear. The only indication of the song is from the hums emitting from his throat as he bops along, his rhythm unique and she suspects not at all in time with the music.

Then he's stepped forward dropping the long arm of the vacuum cleaner onto his daughter's bed and slipped his arms around Kate, dancing against her so she has no choice but to laugh at his insanity, at his laidback attitude and join him. She lets him kiss her cheek and slide his hands along her back before she pulls away from him and dances with his daughter, gesturing to the vacuum, a silent command to finish up. The coffee waiting by the front door is long forgotten now as they dance around the bedroom.

When Alexis collapses on her bed, tugging Kate with her she realises, her partner always knows just what she needs, even if she doesn't. His daughter seems to have the same astute sense. Dancing around her bedroom and spending hours putting together crazy outfits in department stores with her has lightened her mood beyond what Kate herself thought possible when she made the suggestion of the outing. The outing she had done different people over the years.

It had begun when her mother needed to find her a dress for a formal event and a young Kate had stubbornly refused to try on clothes, until her mother made a game of finding the most offending items and tugging them over her daughter's head. Before long the outfit had been decided on, a young Kate completely unaware she had tried on all the pieces separately, her mother matching them together in her mind. From then on it had stuck. From spending hours in dress shops putting outfits together through their teenage years with Madison to now going out and burying herself in the clothing racks for a few hours to clear her head, give herself some perspective, taking Lanie on the odd occasion the woman wasn't busy. She hadn't told Alexis any of this, but she guessed the girl had some idea, appreciated the gesture. She would have to take her again, maybe one day when Alexis needed it.


	12. Finally Friday

**Finicky Friday**

Castle wakes to noises of frustration and rummaging, a heavy weight over his legs suggests he shouldn't move as he wakes. His partner is probably digging for his phone in her bag at the foot of the bed, refusing to remove herself from the warmth of the sheets and himself but unwillingly to miss the call which could potentially break their case. Except, there are no sound assaulting his ears, well there was but it was most certainly not the incessant shrill of her phone. Just small huffs emitting from her in frustration, clearly back in work-mode as she moves across the floor, he can definitely hear her feet scuffing on the carpet. As he is about to open his eyes a weight is added to his legs, a swoosh as material travels through the air before it careers over him. Why is she throwing things at him?

He rolls over to face her, she's getting dressed, scrounging for a top he deduces by her current state of undress. He swallows as he examines the long curve of her back, the way her shoulders are hunched over as she searches, completely unaware as his eyes travel back down her body and rest on her arse, just as she throws another armful of clothes over her shoulder.

He clears his throat, altering her to his now-awake state, hoping she'll take the hint of stop blinding tossing items of clothing onto the bed as she rummages deeper. He takes in the pile, he didn't even realise she had enough items of clothing here to form the small mountain on his legs, let alone enough to still be digging through his wardrobe, frustrated and ignoring him. Now his only view of her now her arse as she's on her hands and knees in the bottom of his closet, apparently now focusing her attention on shoes. His only hope of avoiding injury is to catch her attention.

"Lost something?" he asks softly, causing her the jump slightly. He watches her swallow and slowly turns to face him, still on her knees, her head now removed from the beneath their clothes.

"I can't find my…" she tapers off. "You know what it doesn't matter. I'll just wear something else," she resigns, already standing and tugging the black slacks from her hips, shimmying them down her legs.

He raises his eyebrows as he watches her, his hazy mind not wishing to acknowledge she is preparing herself for work not putting on a show for him.

"Castle," she warns, her voice snapping him back to reality.

"Hmm," he hums in response, meeting her eyes and tearing his gaze from her legs reluctantly.

"Can you throw me that top?" she asks, pointing over her shoulder to the pile as she disappears into the wardrobe.

"This blue one?" he asks, tugging the first one he sees from the pile.

"No, the grey one," she calls, sounding distracted like she's tugging on a pair of pants.

He finds it, holds in it his hands while he waits for her to emerge.

When she does emerge a minute later, clad in a pair of dark jeans this time, her hand outstretched waiting for him to toss her the shirt. She's not ashamed to be standing basically half naked before him, clad only in her bra and the form fitting jeans, but it isn't exactly the warmest of days so she's arching a brow at him, a silent command to toss her the shirt and that what he's gawking at is nothing he hasn't seen before.

"Don't I get a good morning?" he teases, tossing the shirt casually between his hands, rolling the soft material in his hands, watching as she narrows her eyes at him, stalking closer, warily.

As she gets closer he rolls onto his back, giving her enough room to perch on the bed, except she doesn't. She leans over him, kissing him once gently and mutters. "Morning," she mutters before she snatches her shirt from him, clenching it tightly in her hand as she withdraws and pulls around her shoulders and starts doing up the buttons. She stays pressed against his side, lets him keep his hand at her hip, as she perches on the edge of the bed, now eyeing off the pile of clothes.

"I can put them back if you want, you go to work and I'll head across in an hour or so," he shrugs, his fingers twitching against the fabric, skimming her skin as she leans forward, reaching into the pile finding a scarf in the mess of material.

"No, you don't have to. I'll do it later," she promises, leaning over to kiss him again, a little deeper this time. "I need to go home and-"

"You know, you haven't been home in a week?" he observes. "Last Thursday, when all the hair braiding started," he informs her, teasing lightly, pushing against her back, urging her closer so he can kiss her again. He loves that she is here; he certainly doesn't want her to go. But usually she gets too tired, tells him she needs some space, a night to herself and a good book, and the cool of an empty bed.

He understands, he does, but he doesn't always want her to need the space. He wonders why this week has been different, he doesn't think anything has changed, at least not anything obvious, but maybe she's seen something he hasn't, caught onto something she isn't quite ready to let go of.

She considers his words, shaking her head. "No I haven't, have I?" she agrees softly, kissing him again.

"Apparently you've run out of clothes again," he teases, kissing her, slipping his tongue out to meet hers.

As he lets her pull back, she groans. "I can't remember what is here and what is at home."

"Maybe you just need two of everything," he jokes. But he watches as she draws her eyebrows narrow, taking the bait. She knows if she said the word he would make it happen. He knows that she would never ask.

"Castle, I really–"

He interrupts, kissing her, silencing her. "I know. But maybe you should bring more over here than just this," he gestures to the pile before tugging her close again. "Give yourself some more options if you're going to be here for week long stays now. Maybe then the clothes can stay in the closet when you dress every morning and I won't wake up drowning in them," he teases, feels her smile as he talks against her mouth.

"I guess we can manage that," she mumbles, pressing her lips against his before she slides her tongue out, darting it across his lips then slipping it back into her mouth, inviting him to follow.

He lets her overwhelm his senses, suck his tongue deeper into her mouth, graze her teeth over the muscle causing him to retract it back into his mouth. She follows grazing her tongue over the roof of his mouth, flicking it against his teeth, making him her tug her closer again. She gasps for breath against his mouth so he pulls back, taking the opportunity to respond. "Or you could just bring everything over. I'm sure I can-"

She cuts him off, pressing her mouth back against his, hot and insistent, begging him to stop talking. They've talked about living together, both had been content to have their own space, agreed they would go between when they spent increasing amounts of time together. Except that has fallen by the way side, she is basically already living here. Unless they go out, they always come back here to eat with Alexis, she realised that long ago. She encouraged it. She wouldn't take away from his time with his daughter, plus she liked the girl. They had fun when they were all together, even if all they did was curl up and watch a movie, or just sit and talk. She wants to spend time with them both, she doesn't need to have him take her to fancy restaurants and shower her with gifts. He had tried it at first but she had told him not to bother, told him it wasn't them. They had slid into this domesticity quickly, so easily, and it is becoming increasingly easier the more it happens. Now she isn't sure she wants to refuse him when he asks her, she knew he would ask again. It had only been a matter of time. With the strength of their relationship, her budding relationship with Alexis he will ask again, probably sooner rather than later, before some obstacle pops up to block their way.

This time she doesn't want to say no. But she isn't sure she's ready to say yes. She'll think about it, maybe bring another suitcase worth of clothes to fit into his wardrobe this weekend then maybe another in a few weeks. A compromise, a slow process, a promise of eventually, but progress nonetheless. She can't see herself going home, spending her evenings alone there. If she wants to be alone she is more than welcome to use Alexis' room, camp out in his study, even head into his bedroom, they've offered to her countless times. All she has to do is let him know in some way, let them know and they will give her space. She knows that.

So really there is no reason to say no.

Her distraction worked. He snaps her back into awareness as he tugs her earlobe between his teeth, grazing it then soothing it with his tongue, wet and hot, his breath in her ear.

She swallows, her breathing haggard, against the skin of his neck. She kisses the skin beneath her mouth, feels the rise and fall of his larynx as he swallows below her.

He groans softly and slides his hands along her waist, brushing across the skin, grazing the underside of her bra, when exactly he slipped his hands beneath her shirt she isn't sure, she must have been deeper in thought than she realised.

Then he's kissing a hot trail down her neck, forcing her to stop her own assault, sliding his hands back down, tugging on the edges of her shirt. That snaps her out of it.

"I need to go to work," she gasps, forcing her hands to his own, clasping them in her own in an effort to still his movements. She focuses on breathing. She cannot do much more than that and she can't afford to do anything which will only provoke him further, encourage him to continue his assault on her senses and strip off her clothing. It's not that she doesn't want to, it's that if she doesn't leave in the next two minutes she will be late, very late.

She kisses him softly at the corner of his mouth, holding his hands on his belly as she slips off him, unwrapping her leg from around his hips (when that happened she also doesn't recall). She kisses him properly now that she has detangled their bodies, removed herself from the close proximity. "I'll see you in an hour. Bring me a bearclaw?" she asks softly, hovering over him, waiting for him to respond, to oblige.

"Of course." He kisses her again. "We'll discuss packing your bags and bringing them over here later," he murmurs against her mouth.

Damn, she'd almost got away with it. She can't help the gape of her mouth, he chuckles softly in response, smoothing his hands over her wrists, brushing his thumbs over the soft skin, reassuring.

She pulls herself together, more focused on her escape than the words behind it. "We'll talk about it later. Right now I have to go," she promises, kissing him once more before she moves off the edge of the bed, her feet finally touching the floor. She thinks maybe she should have fought him, resisted it a little more. But they will talk about it later, she has no doubt he won't forget about it.

* * *

><p>"What took you guys so long?" Alexis asks, hovering near the door, grabbing a bag from Kate's hands. "You said you'd be here half an hour ago," Alexis teases. "Did you neglect to actually order the food and have to sit around waiting?" she accuses, squarely facing her dad.<p>

The gaze exchanged between them makes Alexis step back, eyes wide as she lugs the bag back towards her father's room. "You know what I don't want to know," she surrenders as she lugs the bag across the floor, more sliding than lifting occurring. "What is in here?" she asks astonished, eyes wide regarding her dad and his girlfriend as Kate wordlessly hands him the takeout bag, opening her hands for the large bag he holds, leaning in close, murmuring something to him Alexis can't hear.

Kate turns back to face her, chuckling at the struggle as she follows. "Just clothes and stuff," she laughs through the words, shrugging. "Want me to take it?" she offers, holding out her hand.

"No, no, it's fine. I've got it," she grunts as she hauls it off the floor and lugs it back to her dad's room, finally making some progress. While it doesn't look like Kate is handling the bag with perfect ease, she is definitely able to manage it. Alexis wonders if Kate's bag is lighter, doubtful considering her dad had been the one carrying it.

She hauls the bag up the tiny step, the join between the floorboards and the carpet proving to be more than a small hurdle. She gives up and drags the bag across the carpet, plopping onto the edge of the bed. "Are you sure it's just clothes Kate?" she asks jokingly. "I think I've pulled a muscle," she feigns, rubbing her back in mock agony.

The detective rolls her eyes at the Castle-esque exaggeration. "It really is. Just a few more than last time," she says softly, deliberately vague.

"You'll keep staying here so much?" Alexis asks, not missing a beat as she unzips the bag she carried, watching as it springs open of its own accord, certainly stuffed to capacity.

"Yeah," she nods, starting to tug shirts and pants from the bag, refolding them, adjusting them on the hangers. "You're okay with that?" she asks, looking up keeping her head down, too used to a veil of hair shielding her eyes, then realising she twisted her hair into a braid while Castle made them a cup of coffee before she started packing up half her wardrobe.

The look she finds on Alexis' face is shock. "Of course." She touches Kate's shoulder, sinking onto the floor beside her, taking shirts from the bag and smoothing them over, piling them up so Kate can sort them out, apparently there is a system she won't interfere with. "You shouldn't have stuffed all this in the bags, now it has to be ironed again," Alexis observes, distracting the detective from her clearly wandering mind.

"Yeah, I'll see how it goes once we unfold it all." She shrugs. "Maybe you'll have to help me," she teases the girl. "Your dad won't be volunteering."

"What won't I be doing?" his voice echoes through the room, causing both of them to turn to face him. Alexis standing quickly to take the plates he's balancing precariously in his arms, somehow managing to hold all three and get the door open. Maybe he used his foot, she isn't sure they pulled it all the way closed.

"I was just telling Alexis," she smiles at the girl in thanks as she hands her plate down to her, "that you had refused to help iron the clothes you so helpfully wrinkled when you stuffed them into the bags."

He shrugs. "You were being too slow, Alexis was waiting and I was hungry." He takes a large forkful for emphasis, as if his persistent whinging all the way over here hadn't been enough.

She rolls her eyes. It isn't her fault they had finally caught their guy, that she had starred him down in an interrogation room for three hours until he finally broke when Ryan knocked on the window, then Esposito appeared two seconds later at the door, handing her a piece of paper, feeding her a bluff that worked hook line and sinker. She didn't like their lack of concrete evidence, but he had unknowingly provided them with a few vital clues as he signed his confession. Assuming they already had much of this information. At least the confession wouldn't be overturned at trial now it was supported.

Confession signed, everything filed and complete, so they had had a late start when they had called Alexis and told her they'd be there soon and would pick something up on the way. Once they had her request, they had set to work packing her a bag of clothes. He had argued that she had been pretty much bringing an overnight bag stuffed with items since they had begun dating, so he swiftly suggested that she bring a second bag. She had shot him daggers, but found no reason to object. She was sick of having her wardrobe in two places, sick of having to carefully recall when she last wore certain items to decide if it was too soon to be recycling the very limited wardrobe she kept within his own. When the other bag was full she had still wanted a few extra things, another coat and some more shoes. So he won out in the end, but didn't vocalise it, just kissed her once she'd zipped up the bags, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'll take these to the car and you can lock up," he'd offered, before kissing her again. She touches her fork to her lip in memory, letting the cool metal linger while she chews and swallows.

She hadn't actually termed it moving in with him, but it was. The items spreading out on the floor before her wouldn't be returning to her own closest, they both knew that. But he had kept pressing the issue, pulling her back just when she thought he'd forgotten, just like he normally does she dances around an issue continually. Of course she returns the favour when he himself does the dancing. This time however she wouldn't cave, the phrase would not be uttered from her mouth, maybe once her apartment was empty then she would be content to make the admission. Then he'd said it, caught her off guard. "Alexis will be happier with this slow shift," he said softly, brushing their joined hands along her thigh, skirting his thumb over her jeans, enough pressure that she could feel his touch.

She'd just hummed in agreement, focused her attention on the road as she forced herself to stay calm. Just because he had vocalised it didn't change it. "It's better this way. It'll work for everyone, give us all time to adjust," she'd said eventually, whispered it, not trusting her full voice. The low volume of the radio, the lack of hum from the cars around them, and a stoplight had ensured he heard her.

She hadn't been too surprised when he leaned over and pressed his lips against her cheek, soft but firm before he made a quick retreat. Normally she won't let him touch her when she drives, glares at him until he retreats, pulls away from him when he reaches across. It had taken her a few months before she even let him brush his fingers across the back of her hand while she drove. They've come a long way since then, they both know it. She'd leant into the embrace today, given him half a smile, but never taken her eyes off the lights above them or the car in front as she waited for their turn so he'd squeezed her hand.

Then he's touching her shoulder, pulling her back to the present, pulling her against the side of his bed, prodding her to continue eating, to stop hunching over the plate in her lap, to join Alexis and himself in the present. Her head finds his knee as she obliges, settling into eat, the plate balanced between her knees and her stomach, way too practised at eating on the couch so the floor isn't much of a shift as she digs in, letting the silence settle over them all as their forks dig through their food, searching for their favourite pieces.

As Kate finishes her rice, drowned with the spicy sauce which remained amongst the rejected aspects of her dish, Alexis reaches forward to take her plate, apparently both the others have finished almost at the same time. "Want a drink?" Alexis tosses the offer over her shoulder as she heads for the door.

When they both offer polite refusals she exits the room. As soon as the door clicks shut he has leaned over her, pressed his mouth to her cheek, kissing her, sliding his mouth over her skin, along her jaw, trailing a path to her ear. "Better get you unpacked," he mutters against her skin.

She gives a soft laugh, not the breathy words she expected to hear. She had been expecting something more along the lines of 'now that we're alone…' like he normally utters before proceeding to assault her senses and drive her to become a malleable object, putty under his fingers, a puddle under his gaze. She is caught off guard when he hauls her up, lifting her with hands under her arms. "Holy crap," she exclaims as she finds herself pulled against his chest.

He laughs at her shock and exclamation, before kissing her deeply, sliding his hands up her back, sliding them around her waist twisting her body in his arms, pulling her closer. "First though I just need a minute," he murmurs against her mouth, twisting a hand through her hair to cup the back of her skull, positioning her exactly where he wants her.

"She'll back any second you know," she says as she draws back just far enough to meet his gaze, catch the mischief there and fill her lungs with air before she kisses him again, deeper, slower and more promising.

"Then you'll have to stop doing that," he mutters, his lips against the skin of her neck, just below her ear.

She chuckles lightly, not stopping her ministrations of her tongue against the tendons in his neck, her teeth grazing the skin and her breath ragged, torturing him she knows. She hadn't intended to move from his mouth, but he'd started it when he slipped his fingers across the skin of her back, making her body itch to be closer, pressed against his own, so he deserved this.

"She's coming," he mutters against her neck. How he knows she isn't sure. Maybe she's too wrapped up in the feel of his arms, the sound of his breath hot in her ear, the sight of his muscle twitching beneath her teeth, the scent of him assaulting her nose, and the taste of his skin dancing across her tongue. Then she hears it, the door knob turn, the soft sound of the hinges moving, not a squeak but not completely compliant. "Coffee?" he asks her, needing a little more space, loud enough that Alexis can hear as she enters the room.

She hums her approval, drops a chaste kiss to his mouth and slides off his lap, back onto the floor to surround herself with her clothes. Alexis joins her a moment later, carefully nestling a glass of juice against the leg of the bed, hiding it away to prevent it being accidentally knocked over.

She's taking handfuls of clothes now, more comfortable to be amongst Kate's belongings. Apparently she's noticed that Kate hasn't hesitated about her rifling through her things, like there is nothing for her to worry about, no surprises for her to find. They work silently for a few minutes, Alexis now having caught onto the sorting system, passing casual things across so Kate can put them behind her and keeping the more work oriented clothes so she can add them to the piles between them.

"I'm glad you're moving in you know," Alexis offers, voice quiet, hesitant, like she doesn't want to startle her.

"Alexis, I'm not actually-"

Alexis cuts her off. "I know it's not official, you guys probably haven't even discussed it directly." She knows their history, the way they've worked around each other for years, the way they danced around issues moved into their personal lives. "But I want you to know, I'm okay with it. That you guys don't need to hold back on my account. Just let me know-"

"Of course we will. And we have… talked about it. This morning actually. But it's not official," her voice soft, confiding in the girl. "When it is I'll let you know." She hopes the smile she gives the girl is encouraging, when she is met with a comfortable smile from the teenager she knows she's said at least something right, or that Alexis understands her meaning, even if the words were wrong.

Then Alexis is slipping her arms around her neck, squeezing gently, reassuring. Kate slips her arms around the girl's waist, pulling her close.

"Just give me some warning before you start planning the wedding or having kids," she jokes.

Kate laughs at the girl's brazen outlook. "We haven't even talked about it." That isn't the whole truth, but it isn't a lie either. Since they've been together neither have discussed that kind of future. They had mentioned it in passing when working together. But they will have to eventually, it's not like they've got different ideas.

"Maybe you should talk about it," Alexis offers, pulling back, resuming her sorting of the clothing from the bag.

She regards the girl, watches her warily look up through her hair, checking if she has overstepped her boundaries. Much like she herself had done earlier. She realises Alexis couldn't possibly overstep, not with this, she has as much say here as either of them. Maybe they needed to make it clearer to her, she'd have to talk to Castle. "Maybe we will," she offers, considering possibilities that the statement brings, how that conversation could go, where it would take them. It makes her shudder, but she puts her head down, breaking eye contact with the girl, avoiding her intense glare. She'll have to have that conversation another time. She's basically agreed to move in with them today, that's enough for today.

Then she realises she's taken the last pair of pants from the bottom of the bag, before she has to empty the side pockets and stow the bag away. She hands the pants to Alexis wordlessly, standing and heading to the dresser to shove the bras and panties into the drawer. The items shouldn't shock the girl, the more intimate items have been here for months, but still, she doesn't want to push the girl.

She's sitting back down, ready to attack the next bag when he slips back into the room, coming over and pressing the coffee into her hands. She smiles appreciatively at him and takes a long drag, swallowing the hot liquid, letting it scorch her throat.

"Need some help?" he offers.

"You can go set up the ironing board," his daughter hums, pointedly glancing at him, flicking her eyes at the door.

Kate watches as his eyes dart between them, looking to her for help, testing the seriousness in his daughter. When she raises a brow at him he steps back. "Where would you ladies like it?" he surrenders, hands poised in mock surrender.

"Where would you like it?" Kate challenges, beats Alexis to it, watches the girl dart her eyes to her, a little shocked she caught onto her meaning (how could she not, an opportunity to harass her partner is never let fall by the way side). But she doesn't break eye contact with her partner, even as she studies his daughter out of the corner of her eye.

He opens his mouth then closes it, glances between them, then proceeds to mumble under his breath as he takes his coffee mug and leaves the room, no doubt protesting about being ganged up on. But Kate knows he wouldn't have it any other way.

"We better hurry if we want him to actually take a shift with these," Alexis offers, sliding a few items from the bag, quickening the pace.

Kate once again follows the lead of the teen, tugging items from the bag. She can't help but appreciate that Alexis said shifts. Like she herself will help, iron some items so they can be put into the wardrobe ready to wear, so she doesn't have to spend five minutes every morning ironing before she leaves for work and ten minutes setting up the board and waiting for it to heat up and cool off. Maybe this transition will be even easier than she thinks, no matter how slow it may be.


	13. Secondary Saturday

**Sleepless Saturday**

"Paige, you can't do that." There is a pause while lets the other girl respond. "No, there is no way I'm going to let you. I'll do it myself if I have to," her voice a hushed whisper as she rests her forehead against the door to the master bedroom, the barrier between herself and them.

At another insistent refusal from Paige she is turning the knob, casting a wary gaze at the sleeping forms of her dad and his girlfriend. She breathes a sigh of relief to find them not in some offending position that could possibly have lead to a year of therapy for her, and them. She crosses the room as silently as possible, approaching Kate as she sleeps on her stomach, her head facing away from Alexis, the rest of her body lost beneath the tangle of sheets.

"Kate," she whispers sharply, her voice cutting through the silence of the room, the only other noise the hum of the refrigerator wafting through the still open door.

Alexis watches as she jerks awake, the phone pressed to her ear, not bothering to pay attention to Paige's excuses anymore.

"Alexis?" she questions into the dark, turning her head to face her, supporting her weight with an elbow pressed deep into the mattress as she searches for Alexis in the dark room. Alexis watches the darting of her eyes, the subtle adjustments as they fight to focus, attempting to find her figure in the dark room. The fact Alexis can see the details of her eyes suggests she has been awake too long, spent too long pacing through the dark apartment, debating this exact moment, kind of hoping she would accidentally wake her by knocking over a chair, or slamming her head against the wall.

"Everything okay?" her voice thick with sleep, but she is focused and alert, instantly aware that Alexis waking her in the middle of the night is not a typical occurrence.

"I'm fine. I just…" Alexis stops, she isn't sure what exactly she is supposed to say in this situation, how exactly she should be proceeding. So she stops, deciding on her best course of action. "Can I call you back?" she asks into the phone. "I just need a minute." She subtly turns her eyes from Kate, as if the woman can hear the ramblings through the phone, the pleading. She hopes the woman sees the phone pressed to her cheek and doesn't think she is sleepwalking or crazy.

"Yes I promise." Alexis rolls her eyes, catches Kate's small smirk even in the darkness the woman has caught on, even surrounded by a fog of sleep, even after an abrupt awakening. She will have to thank her for this in the morning.

Kate stays silent while she watches her hang up the phone, pressing against then screen then darkening the screen, putting it to sleep quickly, all light vanishing from the room. But it doesn't matter, she can see now, she has some understanding.

"What's wrong?" she asks the girl, keeping her voice soft so she doesn't wake her sleeping partner. She's already twisting her body, turning from her shoulders and letting her legs limply follow, dead weight as she tries not to disturb Castle as she sits up in bed, shuffling just enough that Alexis can perch on the edge.

"I'm fine." She swallows.

"You said that already," Kate assures her softly, reaching out to take Alexis' hand from where it hangs at her side, loose and unsure where it should be, just like the rest of her. She tugs her down onto the mattress, attempting to soothe the girl with the brush of her fingers, coax her into talking with a tickle to her palm, prevent the pacing she knew was about to start as her gaze flicked between her father, the door and Kate herself.

Alexis swallows again, who knew this would be so hard. It isn't even her issue, not really. Sure she's helping a friend who has done something bad, but it feels like she is about to confess her own sin, face a lifelong grounding. But she won't, at least not from Kate.

Kate waits her out, persistently silent, not taking her eyes from her as Alexis looks down at their hands, fingers still brushing across her palm. She feels the girl's fingers twitch in her own so Kate loosens her grip a touch. Maybe it had been too tight. But then Alexis is grasping at her hand, darting her eyes up, urging Kate to help. At the desperate look in the girl's eyes she reaffirms the grip, tighter than before. The grip finally coaxes her into speech.

"Paige wants my advice. Well she wants me to agree with her, but I don't." She half offers, well it is not even half of what is going on, but it is the portion of the problem she herself needs help with. Her friend won't listen, won't do the right thing.

"And you don't know how to help her," Kate finishes, making the deduction, it is the only conclusion.

"Nope." Alexis drops the word with a little shame, twists the corner of her mouth in discontent, but the way she is looking at Kate suggests she'd been about to give up before she came in here, before she realised she had help if she needed it.

Then she realises. "And you can't tell your dad because-" The girl cuts her off.

"He would freak out. He would probably never let me talk to these people again." There is a hollow laugh in her response, like she knows exactly the expression her father would wear as she told him. Whatever it is, Kate can picture the panic in him too.

"I won't?" Kate offers, curious, giving her own hollow laugh with her response.

"I don't think so." Alexis pauses a moment, considering, takes in their hands against then brushes a thumb over Kate's knuckle before meeting her gaze. "I hope not. It's not too bad. I am not involved except for this… thing tonight." She spits the word 'thing' as though she is repulsed at the prospect of dealing with the drama. "And I can't talk to dad about this."

This time the soft chuckle Kate gives isn't hollow. She can imagine having to calm him, assure him there are worse things that teenagers do and to remember that Alexis wasn't actually involved. Assure him that his daughter is being called upon for advice, for counsel and she clearly isn't comfortable providing it. She gives the girl half a smile, already slipping the sheets from over her legs, glad for the sweatpants she donned before bed, this night could be a long one.

"Okay, let's go." She barely has to make a move before Alexis is off the bed, standing rigid beside it while she stands, continuing to speak. "I don't want him to wake up half way through this and get the wrong idea." She touches a hand to Alexis' back, urging the girl forwards, urging her to lead her from the room and take her wherever she feels comfortable.

"You know what? I'll show you," Alexis offers, turning so suddenly she almost collides with Kate as they reach the doorway.

Before Kate can even nod once in agreement Alexis has darted ahead, already heading upstairs. She doesn't seem to feel the need to check that Kate will follow her upstairs. That reassures her more than anything of the girl's determination, her blind faith that she knows what to say, has the right advice to give, an opinion to share. Kate doesn't doubt the girl just wants to reaffirm her own opinion, to find a new way to get her point across, but the pressure is there. It isn't overwhelming like it would have been a few months ago, even a few weeks ago. It's different, she knows that she's more involved already than she ever has been before, more entangled with their lives. Just a few hours before they had spent a great part of the evening forcing her partner into ironing garments while they stacked his shelves with her things, took over space in his wardrobe, slotting another pile of shirts amongst his own and moved suits he never wears into the closet in the spare bedroom so she has more hanging space. He hadn't protested beyond a joke, a feigned insult whenever they insulted a garment, attempted to insult her own and failing miserably at the task. But then he had thanked her, followed her into the closet while Alexis took an armful of clothes upstairs, pressed her against the shelves and kissed her until her knees gave out and he was the only thing holding her upright, mumbling his thanks against her mouth, her cheek, her neck, her ear, even her nose.

He would trust her with this thing (why not use the girl's word choice?) if he trusted her to move herself into his closet. Well maybe not, but his daughter trusts her with this and that is more important in this moment. She hasn't even decided if she needs to inform Castle of this yet. She doesn't want to keep the secret, but at this stage there doesn't seem there would be any harm. It would be just another moment they had shared away from his protective gaze, a moment where they had fended for themselves and become closer for it, at least she hopes that's how it will work. She'll try like hell to make it work that way.

When she reaches the open bedroom door she realises there is a very good chance this _thing_ involves that party Alexis didn't attend. This _thing_ will surely involve her classmate's adventures from the previous night. At least it's not a body drop, and she hopes that it doesn't involve some other form of police business. Theft, drugs or assault, of any kind, are as unwelcome as the body drop fear. She just needs to get the unknown aspect out of the picture, then her overactive imagination, one informed by her job, can take a break.

She glances into the room. Her eyes find Alexis sitting cross legged on her bed whose eyes are focused on her laptop screen as the light from its display fills the room. She hears the dull thud of the keys as they are depressed, their irregular beat filling the room. What exactly she is doing Kate isn't sure. It doesn't seem like she is typing a message. She isn't typing with the rapid fire of someone allowing their mind to seep out through their fingertips onto the keyboard. Then it strikes Kate, it is just her username and password. The soft ding of the computer confirms it as Kate shuts the door behind her, finally entering the room.

She flicks on the bedside lamp, stalling giving herself a moment to assess the girl's demeanour now they're in the confines of her room. She seems nervous, but also certain. Whatever this thing is there is no going back now, it seems to hit them both at the same time as Kate leans against the headboard, crossing her ankles over in front of her and Alexis turns more to face her, spinning the laptop so the screen no longer casts its dim glow over her features but projects out towards Kate.

Kate is careful not the touch the girl as she takes the offered laptop, settling it in her lap, not once looking at the screen until she's given Alexis a gentle nod, attempting to assure her whatever this is she will try to help, to offer a sounding board at the very least.

When she does find the screen she sees a clump of text highlighted, ready for her to read, an obvious indication this is the section she should be focusing her attention on. She checks on Alexis again, hands nervously folding over in her lap as she chews on her bottom lip. She gives her half a smile, takes the girls hand.

"It will be okay," she assures, making a promise she isn't sure yet that will keep, but be damned if she won't try.

After Alexis' slow nod, her firm grip once again on her hand, thumb brushing the skin reassuring as she begins to read.

The girl is lucky Kate spends so much time reading, so her speed is above average and that she works as a cop and has heard more than her fair share of internet lingo and teen slang, so that doesn't slow her either. She makes sure to avoid eye contact with Alexis as she reads, she keeps her face as passive as possible, keeps her mind impartial not forming an opinion until she knows for certain why this information is of such importance. Her efforts crumble when she hits the key point.

"I am so glad you didn't go to this party," she breathes out, not moving her eyes from the screen but aware of Alexis nonetheless. She feels the girl shift beside her, mimicking her position except Alexis' arms wind around the arm which had been holding her hand, her head coming to rest on her shoulder as she begins to read with her, obviously following her progress, grateful for the understanding and the lack of outburst. These things should not be happening amongst kids Alexis' age, almost adults or not, this should not be happening. These things weren't happening when she was at school, at least not on such a large scale – these kids are having the parties she attended in college in their final year at high school. While the leap may not seem large, it is effectively the Grand Canyon in this particular instance. At least it feels that way.

"I won't tell your dad, as long as this blows over tonight. If we can't handle it now then we bring him in tomorrow." He always knows what to do, she knows Alexis may not like it, but that's the way it is and she understands.

She waits for the girl to relent, to agree with a slow nod of her head, a dread in her eyes that her dad may have to find out about the drunken antics of one of her closest friends. Kate rubs her knuckle again. Trying to convey that while he would be horrified at first the certainty that his daughter was nowhere near these events would be reassuring.

"What did she say on the phone?" Kate asks softly, as she rereads a few segments, she wants to make sure she remembers the facts and doesn't warp it with exaggeration based on opinion.

Really she needs more information if she is going to be of any help here. It is nothing illegal, thank God. It is not really anything that surprises her too much, typical teenage antics now-a-days, the things which inevitably occur when young people drink and get carried away. It is not even something which will be significant in the lives of these kids in a few months. Sure, right now, in their world, where their only freedoms are afforded to them by their parents, where they have to rely on each other and block out the outsiders, this is the most shocking, most drastic thing which could possibly occur. But the fact Alexis' friend has cheated on her boyfriend with a stranger at this party, won't haunt her for the rest of her life. It might lead to a few weeks of gossip as the news spreads through the school, but it certainly won't be ruining her life. However the boyfriend choosing not to attend the mid-week party where this drunken encounter occurred may negatively impact her attitude to relationships as she insists on not telling him about it. The fact it progressed further than Paige had been with this boy she supposedly trusted, supposedly cared for. It seems this was also a public encounter, if what she read on the screen is anything to go by. Well luckily it started in a public area and they then had the decency to venture off for privacy. But people know that something happened. So they've been talking. The poor kid will find out eventually.

"She won't tell him the rest. No matter what I say she won't. I mean there were a few rumours floating around today, but I thought it was just the usual post-party buzz, people big noting themselves and making half of it up."

Kate nods. She hasn't just witnessed that during her time at school, at college. She's watched as things buzzed around the bullpen, alcohol related and not. She has even seen it during cases, more than a portion of them involving the aftermath of such an event, not just limited to teenagers either.

"But I never thought it could be this bad. Kate this is worse than what any of them think." Alexis is almost pleading with her. Why she isn't exactly sure.

"Okay, tell me exactly what she said and then you can call her back and I'll stay right here." She grips her hand as Alexis begins again, explaining everything. The poor girl seems to be taking on her friend's issue as if she could have personally prevented it, Kate assures her repeatedly that something would have happened regardless, it seems that the party had gone on most of the night, so even if Alexis had attended she would have been home well before much of this even occurred, before it had even started.

Alexis shifts against her arm, burrowing further into her side, forcing her to put an arm around the girl's shoulders and loses all hope of eye contact as the girl speaks. Maybe that will make it easier for both of them.

* * *

><p>As Kate finally makes her way back downstairs she can't keep the smile off her face now she's headed back to bed. She isn't just smiling for the resolve she instilled in Alexis, the advice and comfort she had been able to offer. Sure that was part of it but it was more. It had more to do with the fact the girl had nestled against her side as she spoke on the phone, fingered that pointless tag at the join between the front and back of Kate's shirt as she spoke, the mindless twirling and twisting that draped her arm across Kate's stomach. The touch was innocent, there was no intended meaning behind it, but that made it more significant, it showed Kate the magnitude of this. It reaffirmed that she was a source of support, a constant as she heads back downstairs to crawl into bed beside the girl's dad, into a bed that is now almost officially her own, not just her partner's. It reaffirms it as she thinks that Alexis chose to wake her in the middle of the night to seek out advice, receive comfort and be offered support. Sure the other immediate alternative had been her father, sure to hit the roof reading that – he would have come around eventually and offered the girl advice, but Kate had steeled her reaction, she knew if Alexis had had time to deal with a freak out from her dad she would have but the help she required had been urgent, a decision had to be made in someone else's mind. Castle wouldn't come around quickly enough to the idea, but Kate had taken it for what it was, a mistake made by a friend of Alexis, not from the girl herself. It was odd to be higher on the list than the girl's father, even if just in this instance. Still she can't help but smile.<p>

Sure Alexis could have rung Martha and asked her advice. The older woman would have rushed over to offer assistance, dragged herself from beside her latest bedfellow to tend to her granddaughter's every whim, every need and comfort. But maybe Alexis knows that while Martha would offer her the right advice, say what the girl needed to hear. Kate suspects Alexis would catch onto her grandmother's own likely opinions. At least part of the older woman would be inclined to lie, even when she may suspect it is better for Paige to break up with this boy without breaking his heart.

There is an even slimmer chance the teen would have made the cross-country call to her mother. She has seen her dodge enough of Meredith's calls, seen her assure her dad she'll call back, seen her repeatedly insist she doesn't want to interrupt dinner or a movie or whatever they're doing, to talk to her mum, she's seen enough to suspect that Alexis wouldn't seek her mum's advice at a crucial moment.

As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, her smile returns at the bittersweet realisation she is about the best option the girl has when it comes teenage girl melodramatics. While it doesn't make her feel good the girl has so few reliable options, it does make her feel good that she has become a viable option. Whether it is her level head or reliability, she won't change it. She will be here. She will make sure Alexis feels like she can come to her for these things. She needs someone to talk these things through with. Kate herself had always had several options during these times. Then she realises, most of the time it hadn't been the response the person she confided in gave, it was about the person standing in front of her or sitting beside her, listening and taking on her problem as their own, even if it was just teenage melodramatics.

It triggers the memories of those moments. It makes her see that half of the moments from her own experience had been solved with a hug. Maybe that was all Alexis had needed. She had needed someone to sit beside her and offer her a physical presence while she threatened her friend with exposure if she didn't take the action herself. The unveiled threats to break the news to her boyfriend, had caused her to squeeze Kate right as she demanded Paige give him the respect he deserved by telling him to his face and not letting him find out from a third party, Alexis or otherwise.

Then she's slipping back into bed, pressing her body against her partner who has splayed himself across her side of the bed, a tangled mess with the sheets as he hogs her pillow, crushing it in his arms. But as soon as she touches his shoulder, urging him to let it go. His response is to he wrap an arm around her, allowing her to align herself along the length of his body, dropping his head to her neck, still giving her barely half the pillow but lifting and pressing a portion of his body weight, a heavy shoulder mainly, against her chest.

"Where'd you go?" he asks, his voice a thick rasp, no specific aim, no volume control and no awareness of anything other than her returned warmth. He's not properly awake, she knows better than to assume he is.

He is aware she was gone, and is aware of her return, but his slumber had been too deep, too unrelenting for him to search her out. He probably isn't even aware she's been gone for over an hour. Her place in the bed would have been cold if he hadn't moved into it, seeking her out.

"Just to get a glass of water," she mumbles against his cheek, the only part of his face she can reach as his nose and mouth press against the join of her shoulder and her neck. She kisses his skin, brushes her fingers through his hair, breathes in the smell of him, sleepy and content, and lets herself relax.

He hums agreement or approval, she isn't sure which. It doesn't matter. In his sleep filled haze he has brought the excuse, taken it hook line and sinker.

She'd assured Alexis she wouldn't have to explain her absence to him, that he probably wouldn't even notice and if he did she'd just say they'd met in the kitchen, explain that the neither had been able to sleep so they had sat filling the silence of the kitchen for a few minutes before returning to bed, keeping one another company. The girl had laughed at what she described as the perfect lie. She had assured Kate that he would take it hook line and sinker. Plus he would never question it when she said it. Kate defended that it was mostly true, just all under slightly different circumstances.

Then he's asleep against her, pressed against her shoulder, kind of squashing her chest, but that's okay. She could slip out of his grasp if she really wanted to, but right now he is grounding her to the bed. She touches his hair again and kisses his skin, closing her eyes, reassured by the weight of him. Reassured he's here, that he isn't going anywhere and knows she isn't either. Plus soon he'll roll over; he doesn't even stay still for too long in his sleep.

* * *

><p>"If you keep slipping out of our bed in the middle of the night I'm going to start getting jealous," he says, breaking the silence of the room as appears in the doorway to his en suite, really it is their en suite now.<p>

She smiles at his greeting and at her own thought. He silently responds to her smile by sliding his hands around her waist, pulling her against his body as he kisses her cheek, meeting her eyes in the mirror waiting for her response, for her poke at his prod.

She makes him wait it out, regarding him with a pointed look before he averts his gaze and continued onto a different kind of greeting, leading to a contented sigh escaping from her, just a breath off her tongue as she nestled deeper into his hold.

"Jealous of my running shoes?" she quips, speaking only as he works his way behind her, letting him kiss the salty tang off her skin at the back of her neck.

"Jealous even of the glassware," he utters against her skin, tongue darting out to touch that angle of her cervical spine, tasting that spot where her neck joins her torso.

"Then you also have to be jealous of Alexis," she volunteers as she slides her hands over his forearms, enjoying the way his grip on her is tightening steadily, unrelenting as he presses himself against her, but still so gentle and welcoming, nurturing in his actions.

Her words stop his mouth though, his chin coming around to rest on her shoulder. The stubble on his chin is tickling her skin as he regards her in the mirror, meeting her gaze once again. She doesn't give anything away; she learnt how to keep a straight face years ago. But she keeps her head tilted back, nestled into his neck, just in case, she's glad that even despite the inch her running shoes give her he has hunched over her to narrow the gap so she can press a kiss to the side of his face, much more appealing than the underside of his jaw or beneath his chin.

"Huh?" he huffs against her, not understanding, not sure how to form a question, not even sure what he is asking.

"I met your daughter in the kitchen last night," she says, so slowly it is as if she is trying to breach a language barrier. It causes him to press a kiss to her shoulder, silent encouragement to continue, to elaborate.

But she doesn't. "You did?" he asks, a little confused, but smiling at her in the mirror regardless.

"I did." She doesn't volunteer any more information, just gives him a tight smile.

"Then I'm also jealous of Alexis." He kisses her shoulder then slides his lips up along her neck, seeking out the skin behind her ear, already guiding the hairs that have fallen or worked loose back, clearing his path.

"We had a good talk," she touches her hand to his head, threading her fingers through his hair, curling her arm around his head, encouraging.

"I'm glad. But right now," he presses his mouth against that spot behind her ear, then exhales harshly as he speaks again, "I think you need to take a shower."

"Are you suggesting I stink?" she challenges. She knows he's not, she knows he's suggesting he will help her scrub the sweat from her body and push thoughts of everything else into oblivion as he showers her with everything he has.

"Not at all." His words punctuate the air, hot against her neck. Then his hands are at her hips, urging the sweat soaked tank up her body, teasing the wet material from her skin, grazing his hands over the newly exposed skin as he goes. She is so glad she stripped the jacket off leaving it in the kitchen with her water bottle. Then as she relishes in the feeling of his tongue against her neck, his fingertips across her stomach, she's curling her other hand around behind his head, burying her other digits in his hair, pressing him closer while she shifts back pressing herself closer to him, egging him on.


	14. Simple Sunday

**Procrastination Sunday**

They hear Alexis' approach before she arrives in the room. Her feet hitting the floor as she darts across the loft, headed, they have to assume for the printer which has once again whirred to life. Then she slides on her socks through the doorway, smiling at them both in greeting.

"Finally happy with it?" Castle asks softly as he removes the paper from the top of the printer just behind him, passing it over his desk to his daughter.

"Not quite," she admits.

Kate can't contain the chuckle as Alexis bites her lip and Castle rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"It's your turn chuckles," Castle says, loudly so he startles her, steals her attention fully from the book she's curled up with in the chair he's got in his study.

She shrugs. It is about time she read the essay Alexis has been working on for a few days, passing it over to her dad every chance she can to get him to circle errors, work through the flow of the stubborn third paragraph, help her find more articulate words when she falls short. She'd asked and he'd explained this was the system when his daughter wrote anything, ever since a book report she'd had to do in the third grade. That had been a few days ago, when it first happened, she'd just smirked at him and kissed his cheek and returned her attention to the television, let him get back to the paper on his lap.

"Do you mind?" Alexis is in front of her, touching her knees where they hang over the arm of the chair, attempting to keep her attention from the book on her lap.

She smiles up at her. "Of course I don't mind." She's already closed the book and wedged it into the cushion behind her. "Let's leave your dad in peace," she offers, swinging her legs from the arm of the couch to stand and usher Alexis back out into the lounge room or to the table, where she's set up all her stuff taken over both rooms leaving small piles of books and notes everywhere. Kate hadn't even known the girl had this much stuff in her room, let alone dedicated to one topic in one subject. Alexis leads her to the couch and sits down motioning her over, extending the paper to her.

"You're going to sit and watch me read it?" Kate asks, leaning back against the side of the couch. Alexis has already started to bounce her legs on her toes. If she doesn't stop Kate won't be able to focus long enough to read a sentence, let alone the whole three pages.

Alexis touches her shoulders, urging her to move. "Can I?" she asks as she touches the loose ponytail.

At her nod Alexis slips the band from her hair, holding the base so that as she tugs the hair doesn't catch. Then as she threads her fingers through Kate's hair, gathering the strands she needs to begin the braid, twist and tangle the hair together, Kate relaxes and begins to read.

* * *

><p>Castle decides to call it a day, head out to them and ask them what they'll want for dinner, see if he should duck out and grab a few things. He'd realised it was mid-afternoon when he'd run out of forum speculation about his latest plot, a sure sign he's been procrastinating too long. Even moving onto solitaire isn't an option, he'd played that for a while this morning. So he arches his back and closes the lid on his laptop. At least he'd been productive for the first few hours but then tapered off once he'd got a new email. He'd reached the end of the forum, scanning for anything remotely accurate, telling himself he's checking to see if he has to change anything. But he won't have to, not even the women who live with him know the plot. He doesn't keep it under lock and key, not really. They both know the password to his computer, it's just that they don't want to know yet, they want to read it in print. His thoughts shifts to them, he hasn't seen them for quite a while, so he decides to see what they're up to. They haven't returned since they left to edit the essay for a final time. Well, what will hopefully be the final time, the thing has been rewritten now at least four times.<p>

He notices the quiet as he exits his study then spots them, hunched over the laptop, curled up on the couch, side-by-side pointing to the screen as they talk, gesturing with their hands a little as they attempt to explain their meanings. He doesn't watch for long, he just heads over to them, navigating the landmine of books and printed paper all piled around the room, highlighters and cords spread through it, posing as extra threats. He can't sneak up on them like he could have if they were in the dining room, but he doesn't want to. The way they've both raised their heads to stare at him, smile at his poor navigation and not offer him even the slightest help. The piles nearest Alexis are higher, like they had been by Kate and shifted when used during this rewrite, or maybe Alexis had been sitting on the floor earlier and had to clear herself a space, he isn't sure. But the easiest path is to sit by his partner, so he drops his eyes to the floor and steps over as many piles as possible, just reaching the edge of the maze.

When he sits beside her, not too close, he feels her lean against him as his weight depresses the cushion she's half sitting on too. She could have fought it if she'd wanted to, but he knows she wouldn't have even considered that anymore.

"Hey." He kisses her temple and wraps an arm around her shoulders, nudging Alexis as well, leaning around Kate to show his daughter she's being greeted as well. He shouldn't have bothered, she's typing furiously on the laptop in front of her now, rewriting, or rewording he isn't sure. But Kate must have a minute because she's pressed her lips to the edge of his jaw.

"Finished trolling the forums?" she asks softly, teasing, just low enough so it won't break Alexis' concentration, won't steal her attention.

He opens his mouth to defend, or ask how she knew.

"Castle you haven't typed anything since we came back from lunch, not a single keystroke."

"I could have been doing research," he defends poorly. He really could have been doing legitimate research, but he knows she's seen him do that before, and the reading is always interspersed with periods of typing, as if he doesn't type it out right now, then it will be forgotten.

She presses a kiss to his jaw again, higher, nestled more into his shoulder, straightening her body to give herself an added height. "But you weren't." Her voice is at his ear, hot and completely distracting.

He swallows and she kisses his jaw again, it's soft and chaste, but it affects him as much as she always does. "I wasn't." He stops whispering, needs to snap them both out of it, sooner rather than later.

She presses her lips to his once, soft and quick, habit before she smiles at him and turns back to face Alexis, read over her shoulder. As Kate leans forward she tugs on his hand at her shoulder, urging him to read too, or maybe just to lean over her body, maintain the contact and pretend he can see.

"If you just swap those words around," she says softly, pointing to those in question.

"-it will make the whole sentence flow better," Alexis finishes for her, doing as she suggested.

He moves his arm to the cushion of the couch to support his weight as she shifts subtly beneath him for the second time already.

Alexis is silent for a minute rereading, then she speaks. "I think it's done," Alexis volunteers, smiling at them both, a little hesitant but she seems confident. She's confident in her work now, hesitant to admit it's over. "Thank you," he hears her mutter to Kate. He's lucky he removed his arm, his daughter has her arms wrapped around her shoulders in a hug, so he gives her elbow a little squeeze and she flicks her gaze to him, questioning.

"About five minutes," he answers her silent question softly, informing her how long he's been there.

He sees her nod against the side of Kate's head. "Thanks dad," she says softly, unfolding an arm from around his partner to touch his wrist.

"Anytime pumpkin," he assures her and then she's withdrawn from Kate and his partner is leaning back against his chest, maintaining the slightly awkward position she acquired from the hug to lean against his side. He wraps his arm around her waist and glad her hair has been twisted up behind her head again as he rests his chin on her shoulder. He wonders when they did that or better yet, which of them did it. He'll have to ask later, right now isn't the time.

Alexis is hitting keys again, but she's not typing, she's commanding the program to print, he suspects. It only becomes confirmed when she stands, setting the laptop on the floor and heads toward his study.

"Thank you for helping her," he says softly as he tugs his partner backwards so he's holding her upright. He kisses her softly, lingering when he feels her touch his cheek.

"I've told you, I am happy to do it." She rests her forehead under his chin, she knows she won't be able to stay in the position long, her hips and upper body twisted awkwardly around him, attempting to accommodate, but already threatening to protest.

"And I've told you that you don't have to. I know how painful the editing process can be." He kisses the top of her head. He doesn't need to say it aloud, he doesn't need to vocalise that she doesn't have to help his daughter when others, from his past, have never bothered. Kate including her in things is enough. But she seems to be taking on the academics a little too, just enough that she isn't remaining ignorant. He'll have to thank her, he'll ask Alexis what she thinks would be the best way to thank her, welcome her properly into their home as well. He has an idea, but he has to check with his daughter, he'll need her help anyways.

"Castle its fine. I like spending the time with her. It's amazing how she thinks." Kate says it softly, Alexis is returning with the paper, this time in a plastic sleeve, promising for its finality.

"You're both amazing," he says into her hair and kisses her again.

She touches her temple to his chin before she moves, he's not sure what it's supposed to have meant but the silly contact seems like it should be taken as a denial of his comment, of his compliment. Whatever she says he won't take it back, she's so modest that he doesn't mind saying these things, the denials she offers (new ones each time) are sweet, the arguments weak. She's leaning forward a little, nestling back into his side, forcing her shoulder under his armpit, letting him drape his arm right around her body, keeping her flush against him.

"Finished?" she asks Alexis.

She nods in reply, agreeing. "Done." It's final, as much as either of the adults can tell.

Then Kate is threading her fingers though his own. "Coffee?" she offers them both.

Castle tightens his arm around her. "I'll get it, you stay here." He kisses the back of her shaking head.

"No I'll do it, its fine." She's already tugged his arm from around her and is almost standing before he can react. Damn, she's too quick. But at least this gives him a chance to scheme with his daughter. As soon as his partner has turned her back to them he's gesturing Alexis over, pulling her into his side, already whispering to her, telling her his thoughts.

* * *

><p>When Kate hands him the coffee she sits down on Alexis' other side and brings her knees up to her chest, cradling her cup against her chest. "Why are you two so quiet?" she asks softly, normally she returns to the room and there is some joke she's missed or story that they retell for her.<p>

"I was just telling dad that I need to steal you tomorrow afternoon. I have a party next week and I saw a dress the other day when I was out with Grams and I need you to break a tie. Grams loved it, I didn't it, but I don't know why I hate it." The excuse seems thin to Alexis, but Kate is contemplating it. She's expecting her to ask why she didn't suggest they go today or yesterday.

"There were no other options?" Not the expected question, but still a fair question, there needs to be a reason.

"The theme is yellow, so options are basically zero." Alexis is proud at her quick wit, she knows Kate will be aware of difficult it is when a host has selected a colour theme the guests need to stick to. She steals a glance at her dad, notices his nod and smile, his eyes darting between them, ready to jump in and weave a story. But Alexis knows Kate won't question it too much, she's sure the woman would have to shop under certain circumstances. Now Alexis has to find a yellow dress, she hadn't thought about that aspect. Maybe it will suddenly disappear, sold to another customer.

Kate cringes. "Yellow? Really?"

"Yeah, it looks horrible. I tried a few, none worked."

"Maybe there is a way around the theme." She's seriously thinking about it, Alexis won't be able to lie to her for long once they're out.

"We'll see what we can find." Alexis shrugs it off, hopes she'll forget about it, for now.

"It'll depend on whether we get a case, but I'll try to come get you after school and we'll disappear for an hour."

"Yeah that's fine. We've got a few days." She decides to take her leave. "I better clean up all this up," she decides as she stands.

"Thanks pumpkin." Alexis catches the double meaning behind his smile, but doesn't say anything, just gathers the piles from the floor and moves to head over to the dining table. She really shouldn't make so much mess when she does this.

* * *

><p><em>An: Okay guys I know there was a light delay with this one and I do apologise. But I'd decided to finish the story after the next chapter, I just didn't have a direction yet. But I've found it, so the final chapter should be up in a few days. Thank you all for reading : )_


	15. Final Monday

**Final Monday**

"So where do you want to start?" Kate says as Alexis drops into the car, giving her a smile in greeting as the girl shoves her bag between her legs and reaches for the seatbelt simultaneously.

"I don't actually need a dress." The confession is quick, hurried, like if she says it quick enough it won't be heard it won't matter. It's like she's afraid Kate has left the precinct mid-case to take her shopping for the non-existent item.

"Oh I know," she laughs out, as she pulls back out into the traffic, allowing another vehicle access to the treasured kerb space surrounding the school.

Once she's situated in the lane a few seconds later she glances across at the girl, noting her lack of response.

"How did you know?" Alexis finally manages to close her gaping mouth and form words.

"I am a detective," she offers with a shrug, glancing at her again as she shifts lanes, moving to head around the block and head back across town, destination unknown but the houses surrounding the school would prove useless in entertaining them for as long as this was necessary. She didn't mind skipping out on work an hour early to venture out with Alexis. The guys had been grateful for the early out as well, each swapped assurances they'd be seeing each other bright and early the next morning, their luck of no case sure not to last. Castle had left after lunch. She'd sent him home, instructing him to work so that she could have a few hours peace and that she would call when she and Alexis were on their way home to discuss dinner.

"What gave me away? I need to know for next time," she jokes, throwing a wink at Kate as she turns her whole body to face the teen, thankful for the red light preventing their progress.

She sighs, feigns annoyance. "I won't tell you the little things. But next time you try to lie to me make sure you don't use excuses like shopping when we've been only a few days ago, plus we'd had all weekend."

Alexis sighs. "I knew it was thin. But dad only asked last night so I had to think on my feet."

She could offer several better excuses, lies to coax them both out of the house for an afternoon. But Kate's not going to suggest them. She would never expect Alexis to follow them, use them against her, but it would give too much away about how she thinks, how quickly she can form a plan of action. It's just how she has to be, interrogations have taught her how to stare down and bluff her way through.

"You did pretty well considering you had what? Less than five minutes notice?" she guesses.

"Yeah. Where are we headed then?"

"I don't know just yet. I'm making it up as I go. How long do we need to disappear for?" she asks. She'd had several options lined up, ready, she'd even had a few options lined up had Alexis attempted to continue her rouse. But they were unnecessary now.

"He just said to give him a few hours." Alexis is shrugging again, scanning the shopfronts they pass, eyes roving over everything, taking it in, attempting to form a plan.

"I sent him home after lunch. No new case." Now it's her turn to shrug, whatever he's planning should be finished by now, unless he's been too caught up in the world of her alter-ego. "But we'll give him another hour." She doubts Castle will need it, but she wants to spend some time with Alexis.

"Let's actually go dress shopping," Alexis suggests, turning to Kate seeking approval. When she nods in response, agreeing with the suggestion, Alexis continues. "If you take the second left up here we'll have a few options."

She knows exactly where Alexis means, but she lets the girl direct her. She doesn't shop in this area of town that often, so directions aren't completely unnecessary.

* * *

><p>When they climb back into the car she passes Alexis her phone, instructing her to dial. Alexis does, holding the phone between them on the console as the loudspeaker resounds the noise through the car.<p>

"Hey," he answers. "Have fun?"

"We sure did. We even found a dress." Alexis answers for them both, also altering her dad to her presence.

"Oh really?" He sounds genuinely surprised.

Kate flicks her gaze to the teen, watching her smile as she speaks into the phone again. "Of course we didn't." Castle is more easily fooled than she is, especially by Alexis.

"You didn't cave did you," he teases.

"She didn't," Kate defends, speaking up for the first time. Even if he does catch her out in this particular lie he won't call her on it, especially seeing as it means she is sticking up for his daughter.

"You interrogated my daughter?" he asks, feigning disbelieving disapproval.

"Of course not," Alexis laughs.

"I did tell her the things wrong with her lie though." He knows what she means.

He chuckles. "How long before you're home? I've got dinner organised so don't worry about stopping." She wasn't planning to.

"Ten minutes or so," she estimates. They both know it could double if they get a bad run of lights or hit the afternoon gridlock. "How long till you're home?" she teases, she can hear he noises in the background which suggest he too is in the car.

"Here now. I'll see you both soon," he says. She can hear the change in the background hum as he slows to enter the parking garage.

"Sure will." She nods to Alexis to wrap it up.

"Bye dad," she chirps as she moves the phone closer so she can click it off, not pausing to wait for his own farewell.

"You don't know what he's planning do you?"

"Nope." The word is definite as it rolls off her tongue

"You're getting better."

Alexis laughs and settles into the seat. "I'm learning."

* * *

><p>When they finally arrive at the loft he's already hunched over a saucepan, preparing their dinner.<p>

"Hey," Alexis gives hugs him from the side and he blindly wraps an arm around her. "Success?" she asks quietly.

He just moves his head in the affirmative and continues to work, stirring the gooey mess in the pan.

"Where's Kate?" he asks, realising she should already be beside him as well.

"Behind you," she answers for herself, giving her position away.

He steps away from the pot, Alexis taking over stirring the pasta through the sauce.

He kisses her softly after he wraps his arms around her. "Hello," he says into her ear as he brings her against his body.

"Miss me or something?" she asks him softly.

He hums in response and then she kisses him, softly, lingering but chaste.

"Are you going to give it to her?" Alexis pipes up and he hears his partner laugh against his ear, her body moving gently with the sound.

"I was getting there." He doesn't turn back to Alexis when he answers.

"What did you do?" she threatens, a little worried. "You shouldn't have-"

He presses his lips to her, silencing her. "Nothing like that," his assurance is soft, but effective.

She sighs. "So tell me," she says quietly. She is not begging, not even a little.

"I'll show you," he says softly, motioning they should head back to the far end of the kitchen. He'd dropped the bag under the end of the island, so it would be out of sight when they walked in, but not too far away.

He keeps her close, pressed against his body as he shuttles her along with him. It isn't at all awkward moving her along like this, it should be the way their legs should bump and tangle together, but they don't. Not even once.

She spins in his arms as they reach the end and he deliberately moved his gaze to the bag, leading her again.

"It's the last of your clothes. Your closet is now empty," he mutters it against her neck as she chuckles.

"Why?" she asks softly, holding onto his arms.

"We wanted to thank you," he speaks against her.

"Why?" She's a little shocked. What could she have possibly done that warrants such thanks?

"You've been amazing," he says, like it explains everything. He can hear that his daughter has stopped moving in the background to watch and listen. "We want you to stay. And now you've got no reason not to." He kisses the side of her face. "If you go back now you won't have any clothes at all," he mutters against her ear.

She swats his arm, half-heartedly. "That would be a problem why?" she asks softly after she's turned in his arms to hug him closer. "Thank you," she says as she meets Alexis' gaze over his shoulder. She pushes off his chest and wraps his daughter in a hug as well. "You're okay with this?" she asks softly.

"Of course," the teen answers with a laugh.

"Let's eat before this starts to burn," he announces.

* * *

><p>She emerges from his en suite later clad in pyjama thick pyjama pants and a sweatshirt. She dries the ends of her hair with the towel as she heads to the dresser searching for a pair of his socks.<p>

"Still stealing my socks?" he asks from the doorway, his voice breaking the silence of the room and causing her to jump a little.

She shrugs half-heartedly, gives him a soft smile. "They're thicker," she offers. She knows he doesn't really mind, he's just baiting her, still seizing every opportunity to tease her. She hopes it never changes.

He meets her in the doorway to the en suite and kisses her. "There's something else," he says gingerly, earning just the glare he expected in response.

"What else?" she asks slowly as she narrows her eyes at him, curious, more worried than before.

He kisses her again. "Can I show you? Or did you want me to tell you?" he asks.

She sighs. "Show me." He just catches the eye roll, disguised as she moves her head but unmistakeable. She moves to follow him as he leads her into the doorway of his wardrobe, ushering her in ahead of him – the small room really isn't big enough for the both of them to stand in now it's so packed with all their clothes.

Just as she turns to face him to ask what he means, he gestures past her body, pointing with his finger. She turns back, still keeping her back pressed into his chest, happy he's wrapped an arm around her middle. He's pointing to a box.

"It's more of your stuff. But it's your actual stuff, not just clothes and shoes and coats," he explains softly.

She nods slowly. "You started to pack up my apartment," she says softly, understanding.

"I meant it before. You've been amazing."

She's shaking her head, bumping softly into his jaw. "I haven't done anything-"

He squeezes the arm around her waist. "You have. You've let us make you a part of our family and been making as much effort to be a part of it." He feels her squirm against him, trying to turn. But he resists and wraps his other arm tightly around her. "So to thank you, I've decided you're to start emptying your apartment, moving things in here and mixing your things with mine and Alexis'. It can be as slow or as quick as you want, but I want you to start." He kisses her cheek, feels her rest the weight of her head back against his shoulder and his neck as he does.

"I want to start too." She sighs as his arms slacken, and he moves to slide his fingers over her shoulders. She knows he's checking to see how tense she is, if her words are a lie to appease him. He won't find more tension there than from the stress of the day. It gives her the chance to turn and face him, kiss him deeply, wind her arms around his neck and press the length of her body against him.

"I thought you'd be mad," he confesses into her hair as she kisses his neck, sucking, nipping and biting gently on the skin at his collar.

She shrugs. Not too many months ago she would have been, but something's change. She can't name it, doesn't really want to. She might jinx it. But it doesn't matter what it is. She feels at home here now, whether it's wrapped in his arms in the closet, making her way around the bathroom, kitchen or even the laundry, or just curled up to read or watch TV. The two of them have slowly pulled her into their lives. And she's let them, content to insert them into hers as well, filling them in on her secrets, her perks and her quirks as she does.

"You haven't even looked in the box." It's true she hasn't, but it seems that's also about to change as he steps forward with her, leaning over so she'll have to spin and bend over the box as well or risk toppling over. She follows his lead and does as he intended. Their silent communication and understanding has only grown stronger the longer they've been doing this.

He sits behind her, legs bent in the cramped space, her whole body between them as he nestles against her shoulder, watching her drag the box closer. He'd packed up a box of her belongings, mainly things that should already be here, things she doesn't think about when she moves through his loft, just using his versions of the same items, or grabbing specific things when they're out and telling him he needs it. He has never questioned it, happy to oblige, but now her things are here too.

Sure he didn't touch certain things. He didn't touch her jewellery box where she keeps her mother's ring and her father's watch, that is hers to move, when she's ready. He didn't even consider bringing over the post-its and photos attached to the window frame in her study, that's another that is entirely her choice. But he had moved around grabbing almost everything he could reach, things he's seen her touch or had her explain to him. He'd grabbed picture frames, book ends, the dish she tosses her keys into, her 'to-read' pile off her nightstand, and he'd even grabbed the blanket from the closet she offered him one night when he slept on her couch, returning three days later to find it in almost exactly the same position, just a different rumple spread across it, like she'd curled up in it after he'd left. He'd tossed in some of the lesser items from her vanity and her laundry, filling the last of the space – sure she has more than ample shampoos and soaps and things here, but now that the half-filled containers have been moved from her apartment, it makes it more final. He doesn't even know how he fit it all in the box.

"Is there even anything left to bring over?" she teases as she rummages through the box, arranging items on the floor around them, tossing a few of the safer items back over his head, the blanket had been the first to make the hasty exit.

"Furniture," he half-teases.

She stops her rummaging, elbow deep in the box and flicks her gaze to him. Clearly she hadn't thought about that aspect.

"We'll make it work," he says softly as he runs his hand over her back, leaning over to kiss her slightly agape mouth. She closes it at his contact with her bottom lip and seems to jolt back to the present as he pulls back, touching her knee as he does. "Good-will will love me," he says softly. he hopes his implication is clear, he'd fill his entire loft with her furniture, recreate her apartment in his own if it meant she'd be comfortable here.

"Us," she amends, kissing him again. "We'll make it work," she echoes, kissing him again.

"Okay I'm going to put some of this stuff away or we're going to be trapped in here forever, surrounded by your stuff," he announces as he gathers things in his hands, picking up the things that will need a place in his en suite cupboards and drawers. A safe bet.

She nods and continues to remove things from the box, turning some of them over in her hands as if seeing the pictures within the frames for the first time, studying the things he considers most important to her. It's interesting to observe.

She meets him as he exits the en suite, her own arms full of more things to give a new home. "Where do you want to put these?" she asks, nodding to her arms. She doesn't raise her arms to show him, everything would have toppled to the floor.

He takes the bookends and she follows him to the bookshelf. He settles them into the corner of a shelf. "I'll make some space," he mutters as he kisses her forehead, all in response to one curious glance from her as she regarded the full shelves.

He keeps taking items from her arms and leading her around the apartment, pulling the blanket over the back of the couch, a few of the pictures in his study, one on the dresser and the one of all three of them on the nightstand. When she's left holding the dish she puts her keys on he motions for her to move ahead of him, decide where it should go. She doesn't move out of the office, just steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, requesting entry.

When she slips away from him, ducking beneath his arm it feels too soon for her warmth to disappear from his body, but he follows, catching her fingertips in his own and letting her lead him toward his front door.

She sets the small dish on the end table by the coat closet, not in the centre due to its occupation by a wooden sculpture.

He moves the sculpture and repositions the bowl. She eyes him curiously as he moves toward the door, headed out to the trash chute.

"One thing I never liked," he explains as he slides the cover back down and heads back towards her.

She gives a soft laugh as he moves back to her, sliding his hands around her waist, kissing her gently.

"Where did you guys go?" Alexis' voice carries across the loft as she spots them from the kitchen, her attention caught as the door closed.

"Nowhere. Just moving in," he explains, tugging his partner across to his daughter to explain.

Alexis is regarding them both, slightly confused by the glow she can spot in her father's eyes and the smile his girlfriend can't contain. She thought moving in was already decided.

As they get closer Castle points to the thick pad by the phone, a new addition. Her eyes follow as he points to the few mugs added to the rack in the corner. "Ah," she says understanding. "Moving in. When did you bring all this over? Did you leave and come back with a truck?" she teases as she continues to spot small additions to the décor of the loft.

"Your dad had a box of stuff in the closet," she explains with a shrug. "I'll bring the rest over another day. Finish all your homework?" she asks. Maybe this is what he means about her effort, from the way he's squeezing her hip it might just be. But it's just small-talk, simple polite conversation. It is no great effort. She'd asked the girl these questions before they were together, but apparently it means more now, to both of them. She realises she didn't wait for her answer before she wandered off in her own thoughts, but the way Alexis is smiling at her, proud of something or satisfied she's done causes her to just smile in response and leave her partner's arms to wrap hers around his daughter again.

"What's wrong?" the girl asks softly against her neck.

"Nothing. I just… Thank you," she says quietly, trying to show Alexis her appreciation.

"You don't need to thank me. But just know, now that you've unpacked in he's never going to let you leave." The girl teases.

"I know," she laughs against her hair. That's okay, she doesn't want to.

_fin._

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><p><em>I want to thank every single person who has read, reviewed, altered andor favourited this story._

_I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing this._


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